Sinner's Descent
by The Potty Monster
Summary: Through the midst of an Alliance war, a scrabble for Mako, a bloodthirsty Sephiroth, powercraving men, and a determination to stay alive, Haschel and Strife can agree on one thing. That paperwork completely sucks.
1. Prologue

**_Disclaimer_**: Before I start, let me put the one and only disclaimer for this entire fic. I don't own squat. That's right. I don't own nothing. Notta thing. Except for the plot, which is split with my co-author, Tadpole. So there. It is said. It is done. Moving on.

OK, after a few reviews, and much beating by Tadpole, I've decided to take the outline out of the prologue, so, there! If you have questions, review or send an e-mail, you know the drill!

* * *

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Prologue_**

The rain spattered heavily onto the paved streets of Midgar, pelting the wandering bystanders below with bullet-sized droplets. A single manwalked along the sidewalk, his head held low, nothing but a flimsy hood protecting his head from the icy sheet of rain. His pace was slow and deliberate, casual but not too casual, simple and inconspicuous. His hands were jammed into the pockets of his large, grey raincoat, and a pair of slippery sandals smacked against his feet with his every step.

He stopped on the corner to Gijitsu Industries, looking left and right, his eyes keen to the traffic. He let out a breath when the light switched to 'Walk', and he started across the road. Before he had the chance to look up, a loud honking was heard, and soon following it was the squeaking of wet brakes against the tarmac as a rogue car swerved out of the bystander's collision path, a man shouting obscenities from the driver's open window.

"Watch the light, ya!" the man shouted, holding his hand up in a threatening gesture. When the car's red brake lights could be seen, he hurried quickly across the road, throwing the car, now in reverse on it's way back to terrorize him further, one last, worried look before stepping inside the glass doors to the building. Shaking his hood off, he ran a hand through his soaked hair, immediately causing the large cowlick atop his head to spring to life.

"Cowlick! You're back! Take that up to the Boss. Heard it was important."

Cowlick nodded, not bothering to answer his superior as he strolled down the long corridor leading to the elevator. The Boss' office was on the sixtieth floor, and he had no wish to walk up that many flights of stairs. Stepping into the empty elevator, he retrieved the parcel from his jacket pocket, sighing in relief when he inspected it, finding it to be dry and undamaged.

When the ding of the elevator interrupted his further perusal of the parcel, he stepped out of the elevator, looking around at the plush doors and halls adorning his Boss' personal floor. Very few saw these walls, and he was proud to say that this was not his first time. Two long hallways led left and right, and a single hall led foward, though there were no doors along it's path. Striding to the metal-enforced doors on the far right, he lifted one hand and knocked loudly.

"Bring it in," the gruff voice of the Boss sounded. Cowlick pushed the doors open with some difficulty, idly wondering where the door gaurds were at this time of day. "On my desk," Haschel ordered, his back turned as he studied the streets of Midgar below.

Cowlick laid the parcel down gently, hurriedly scuttling out of the room and slamming the doors.

When the click of the automatic lock sounded, Haschel turned in his chair, his wizened, wrinklied face scrunching up in scrutiny as he studied the seemingly harmless parcel. Reaching a knarled hand out cautiously, he lifted it slowly, bringing it closer to his eyes for further inspection.

Deciding that it was, indeed, harmless, he ripped the parcel open, exctracting the letter from inside the box. A personal message from Oogie Boogie himself. It was very rare that Oogie and Haschel collaborated, most of the phsycal work was left to T.G., and Haschel was wary as to what the letter contained.

He scanned it quickly, his eyes narrowing in confusion and suspicion. "Hm, it seems that Oogie's landed himself in a tight spot. No matter. The less, the better, I say," he muttered, tossing the letter carelessly to the side of his desk. Devil's Anthem was of no concern to him, though the matter on hand was critical.

Haschel suddenly froze in his action of turning his chair back around. "I wonder..." he murmured, picking the letter back up and reading it slowly. A small smile crept onto his face, and he turned to his phone. "Leonheart, have Strife in my office by one hour," he ordered, not bothering to wait for a reply from his Advisor as he tucked the letter into the folds of his suit jacket. It seemed their was more to benefit from the situation that he had thought.

* * *

All done with the prologue! Of course, you don't understand a thing that just happened, because it was just an introduction to one of the main plot lines. So, now Tadpole and I have to write the first chapter. So read, and review, and let us know what you think...

**The Potty Monster**


	2. Chapter One

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Chapter One-Fall of the Oogie and Rise of the Evil_**

They were watching him. Every last, single one of them. They were all watching him, causing the stitches on his sack to loosen and the beings that feasted on his innards to squirm. An unsettling feeling it brought, them watching him. Made him jittery, nervous. It made him feel stupid, incompetent, as if he didn't belong. A feeling he didn't like. Not at all.

They thought he didn't know. Thought he didn't know they were watching and waiting, for the time to strike. Waiting, waiting, always waiting. All of them were. For a time when he had his gaurd down. Ha! As if it would ever come! He was leader of this Alliance, the ONE, the man, or thing, who made it happen. They would never get him. Or so he believed.

They were all at it again, at this very moment, outside his door, watching, waiting, ever vigilant in their quest to bring him down. And that slimy, sneaky bastard Ansem... The leader of the bunch, he was. Didn't want nothing for the Alliance. Wanted all the power and glory for himself. He would never fall to such a greedy lot of people. Never. Or so he was convinced.

He was sitting at his desk, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands, his body tensed and waiting. The beings inside him quivered with anticipation, and he felt the stitches on the back of his neck stand up. He took a deep, shaky breath, setting the mug, which was now shaking in his hand, down on his desk, ignoring his lack of a coaster. Little things like mug rings didn't matter anymore. No,they didn't matter at all.

He was shuffling through the documents scattered messily about on his desk, trying to buy more time,when _he_ burst through the door, amber eyes blazing with silent fury as he neglected to form a proper greeting.

"We grow weary of waiting, Oogie. I demand that your decision be announced," Ansem ordered, striding forward and slamming his fisted hand down on Oogie's desk to add emphasis. Oogie fidgeted with the strings on his neck. A part of him was completely outraged that his inferior would barge in his office like so, and another part, the larger one, was shaking with fear at the man's rage.

"I'm leader of this here Alliance, Ansem, and I-I'll make the decision when I'm r-ready," he stuttered, the small form of resolve he had gained shattering as he tried not to meet the furious man's eyes. Ansem was an intimidating figure, to say the least, with his crisp suit and tie, and perfectly shined shoes. Something Oogie himself would never posses, due to the fact that he resided in a sack of crawlers for the time being.

"Very well," Ansem said tightly, turning on his heel and slamming the door on his way out. Oogie placed his hand absently on his mug, the dark hollows that harbored his non-existent eyes widening with worry as he glanced back at the shut door. Wasn't any sense in stalling anymore.

Getting up quickly and tripping over his chair in the process, Oogie regained his composure, straightening quickly, looking around as if someone had witnessed the embarrassing moment. Dusting the front of his sack off, he opened the door tentatively, as if expecting Ansem and his group to be on the other side, waiting to strike, much like the disgusting snakes they were.

Seeing the hall empty of people, he took the single flight of stairs down to the underground passage, creeping along slowly, constantly glancing over his shoulder, his sack shaking with fear. He could hear the constant drip of water that fell from the drainage pipe above, hear his every footstep in the echoing silence.

Pushing the metal doors to the basement open, he hurried inside, not bothering to look back as the automatic door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

Silence was his best friend. That, and the skills he had gained over the years working in silence. Either way, with the two on his side, he was sure to succeed. Creeping along the winding tunnel, he stayed crouched low to the ground, his steps cautious and calculated. A mistake now could cost him his life and the secret he was indebted to keep. Neither seemed like an appealing option at the moment.

Stopping abruptly as the sound of a door opening and closing reverbrated off the bare, concrete walls of the tunnel, he glanced around sharply, his keen ears open for signs of life. He could hear shaky, harsh breathing and the occasional wimper, signaling the arrival of Oogie.

Studying the drainage pipe above him, he executed a high leap, grasping the pipe firmly and hoisting himself up. Careful to swing his sweeping cape over the pipe so it didn't hang down, he waited patiently, his arms shaking with the effort of holding his body weight up. When the sound of the sack's footsteps met his ears, he glanced down quickly, noting with asilent sighthat Oogie was taking his sweet time getting past him.

He didn't understand why he couldn't just do Oogie in as well. It would make his job much easier, and save him trouble later on, when he executed his escape. When Oogie's wimpers sounded far enough, he dropped silently to the ground. Sweeping his cape up, to keep it from dragging on the water puddles at his feet, he followed the Alliance leader noiselessly, sticking close to the walls, doubling back often when Oogie would stop to catch his breath.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the sack's cowardly behavior. It amazed him as to how the useless pile of worms even made it to head of such a notorious Alliance, but he verbalized no complaints. An imcompetent leader meant a more incompetent Alliance, to which he definitely had no opposition. He despised the whole mess of Alliances, and their leaders especially.

Stopping abruptly when the sound of the metal door at the end of the tunnel met his sensitive ears, he looked behind him, assuring himself that he was not being followed.

Taking a running leap, he landed, once more, atop the drainage pipe, this time settling himself into a more comfortable situation. Knowing leaders and how important they liked to feel in certain meetings, he knew this would take quite a while, if not till nightfall, and he was prepared for a long wait.

Shaking his head as he situated himself back against the wall, he idly toyed with his cape, which lay in a pile in his lap. It surprised him how foolish power-seekers could be at times.

* * *

"Oogie, how nice of you to join us."

Oogie took a cautious step forward. Maleficent always unnerved him, and even more so in a confined room, such as the one they were all currently gathered in. It was something about the sinister, ever-calm tone of her voice that sent the creatures inside crawling up his neck.

Repressing a shudder, he moved to the head seat at the large, rectangular table. "Y-yeah, well, I came to my decision," he said nervously, seating himself heavily. The chair scooted back a bit at the hefty amount of weight it was now supporting, and Oogie ignored the smirk that settled onto Hook's face at the scraping noise.

"It's about time," Ursula said impatiently, one of her tentacles wrapping around the upper bar of her chair. Oogie gavethe appendage adistasteful look, lifting his chin slightly at the disdainful tone of voice she always used when adressing him.

"Well, don't take all day," Kuja said softly, his feminine voice carrying across the room. Oogie nodded his head vehemently, the creatures inside scattering with the motion. Taking a deep breath and swallowing loudly, Oogie opened his mouth to speak.

"Well, I think that, due to these here circumstances, that we should... Stick with what we originally planned. That way, we don't have to do no changes in staff or plans, and all that other stuff," Oogie said uncertainly, glancing around the table for their reactions.

"As I thought," Kuja muttered, sitting back in his chair, drawing his long, silver hair over one shoulder. The folds of his white sleeves gathered on the table in heap, obscuring his face from view when he turned his attention to Ansem, who faced Oogie across the far end of the table.

"Incompetent, as usual, Oogie," Ansem said, giving him a pitiful look as he stood abruptly from his chair. Oogie stood as well.

"Now, look here, Ansem! I'm the leader of this Alliance! And I say we stick with the plans!" Oogie protested heatedly, his sudden spurt of anger fueling his opposition to Ansem. He seemed shocked at such a defiant outburst, but he made no move to take his words back as he grasped the stitching on his wrist nervously.

"Yes, yes, yes," Ansem said dismissively, waving his hand in front of his face as if shooing a fly. "Your even more so incompetent plans of taking over the city and all of it's sectors. Tell me, Oogie, how do you plan to accomplish that?" Ansem asked snidely, a sneer forming on his lips as he strode confidently toward the Alliance leader.

"We'll do it!" Oogie said stubbornly, a hint of fear creeping into his voice as Ansem drew nearer. "And besides, you guys didn't have any objection when I offered it a few months ago!" he added, his hollowed brows drawing together as Ansem stopped dangerously close to him.

"You fool, Oogie. Did you think, even for a moment, that we supported such foolishness? To control the sectors would be a waste of time, considering the amount of competition. Gijitsu, Northside, Underground. Tell me, how do you plan to dominate Strife, T.G., and old Haschel? Surely you don't think a worthless being such as yourself posseses the skills?" Ansem asked, taking yet another step forward. Oogie retreated, stumbling over the curved leg of his chair, catching himself before he landed heavily against the seat.

"What are you saying, Ansem?" he asked, hysteria taking over as Ansem reached into the folds of his shirt. He withdrew what looked like a long, gleaming scalpel, brandishing it with a menacing smile.

"Don't be a fool, Oogie. Only a select few posses the knowledge to run a city, and you, fortunately, are not one of them. Your use for this Alliance is hereby terminated, Oogie Boogie," Ansem said, finality sounding in his voice as he moved closer, the tool in his hand drawing nearer to Oogie's chest.

"You can't kill me!" Oogie said desperately, scooting back across the chair, stumbling and landing with a heavy thud to the floor. "You, you can't!"

"I see no objections to such an act. Kuja? Maleficent?" Ansem asked, turning mockingly to the two mentioned. Maleficent gave a curt nod, returning her eyes to Oogie's trembling form. Kuja, however, in one fluid, graceful movement, rose from his chair and sauntered toward Oogie.

"I would like a front row seat when this is completed," he said simply, amajestic smilesettling on his face as he stood casually next to Ansem, who turned back to Oogie.

"You see, Oogie, your use for this Alliance has, indeed, been over-worked. You were a puppet, a toy, a cover-up of ignorance so that the truly skilled," Ansem threw a glance at Kuja and the others, "Could complete a task that no other has accomplished."

"But! But you said... You said that nobody could take over all the sectors!" Oogie objected, grasping the first reasonable subject that came to mind. The sharpened scalpel was moving closer to the stitches on his chest, and he could feel the creatures inside him swarming toward the spot, ready to escape should a hole be opened.

With one fierce lunge, Ansem pierced the front of Oogie's chest, grinning maliciously as the hole erupted with bugs and worms, crawling up, down, right, left, any way they could escape their confinement in the sack. Oogie winced, though he felt no pain.

"You-you can't!" he rasped, his voice going dry as Ansem slowly moved the blade higher, towards the stitches securing the sack to Oogie's neck. Oogie struggled violently against him, trying in vain to scoot back as Ursula's tentacles wrapped around his torso and arms, pinning him effortlessly to the ground.

"Yes, Oogie, I can," Ansem replied, hunkering down on his haunches. He moved the scalpel in an arch, approaching the first of the five stitches securing Oogie's sack. "You see," he said softly, slicing through the first. Oogie howled in pain, fighting Ursula's restraints as bugs encased his mouth and hollow, darkened eyes. "The time has come for those," Ansem continued, slicing through another stitch. Oogie struggled even more against the tentacles, feeling the weight normally adorning his chest deplete as his energy left him. "With true power, intelligence, and cunning to be rewarded. And you, Oogie," Ansem said, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned in further, slitting all but the last stitch. "Don't belong to any."

Oogie's mouth opened to form a scream, but it faded before it began, the sack falling to the floor, empty of the creatures it once contained. The bugs and worms were everywhere, crawling over the floor, in and out of the holes adorning Oogie's empty frame as they scampered wildly about the room.

"Kuja, see to it that the rest of the Alliance be informed of the sudden change in leadership," Ansem said sarcastically. Kuja let out a dry chuckle, nodding his head silently as he made his way to the exit.

"As for the rest of you," Ansem announced, turning to face the others, who were waiting patiently, as if death were an every day occurence in their lives. "See to it that this mess be cleaned up. We have a city to dominate," he added, striding toward the exit. "I want to get started as soon as possible."

* * *

He waited patiently atop the pipe, hearing the enraged screams of the sack as his life was ended. A smile played at his lips. So it seemed the worthless sack was indeed taken care of. It would prove interesting as to who took over the Alliance. When the door opened and closed, he drew his knees tighter above the pipe, resting completely out of sight as the majestic form of Kuja disappeared down the tunnel.

Ansem soon followed him, stopping at the door, looking around suspiciously, as if his presence could be sensed. The man was reassured, however, that he was not. He was a master at stealth, and he was confident that he remained in the shadows. When the rest of the Devil's Anthem executives exited the room, he made sure to count, he hopped down from the pipe, withdrawing a small,silver pistol from the folds of his cape. Amazing how much technology had advanced since his youth.

Shooting the lock on the doors, he was rewarded when it sprang open, admitting him into the room. Striding past the chair knocked over at the head of the table, he stopped momentarily, pausing to study the prone form of the sack. It was completely empty, kicked to the side of the wall, next to the bookshelf that was his main purpose.

Stepping over the sack, he stopped once more in front of the bookcase. Running his fingers over the film of dust that had settled on the ancient writing, he scanned the spines of the books, stopping when he read the name of a certain, leatherbound collection.

Removing it from the bookcase, he dusted it off, coughing lightly at the thick cloud of smog now enveloping him. Moving back a few steps, he studied the book closely. All of this trouble just for a single book. Then again, it was very few who could have claimed to have snuck into the underground of Devil's Anthem headquarters. Tucking the book gently into the insides of his cape, he started toward the door, giving the pathetic sack one last look before making his way back down the tunnel. It would be quite a while until he arrived at his destination, and he did hope to make better time than he had planned, now that he was out of the underground.

* * *

Idly tapping his pen against the papers littered on his desk, Strife gazed openly out of the glass windows surrounding his office. When he had proposed the idea of starting his own Alliance to Tifa and Barret, paperwork had been far from his mind, and he was seriously starting to regret it.

Jumping slightly as the buzzer on his desk sounded, he turned sharply in his chair, clearing his throat before speaking. "Yes, Tifa?" he asked, listening closely as she announced that the messanger was here. "Send him in," he replied with a sigh, breaking the connection and turning back around in his chair.

When the doors to his office open, he felt a smile tug at his lips, and he couldn't help the amused chuckle that escaped him as he turned to face the man.

"So, Sephiroth, you seem to be getting quicker and quicker with these visits, don't you think?" Strife asked snidely, standing from his chair and striding around his desk to approach the hooded man.

Sephiroth lowered the hood of his cape, revealing a curtain of silver hair that surrounded his face. There were no signs of amusement on his face, though he did return the sardonic smile. "Your delivery," he stated, offering the book to Strife. He snatched it from Sephiroth's hands, turning dismissively, his eyes shining with approval as he read the title of the book.

"'Ancient Materia'?"

Strife stopped, his eyes narrowing as he rounded back on Sephiroth. "Took an interest, did we?" he asked, dropping the book on his desk and crossing his arms. "Don't go to getting any ideas, Sephiroth," Strife warned, leaning back casually against his desk as he eyes the silver-haired man.

Sephiroth's face remained impassive, though a flicker of light did pass over his eyes. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, out of habit rather than nerves, and regarded Strife coolly. "I do take interest when it could lead to certain jobs from my client," he said, the insinuation clear.

"I'm through with you," Strife said abruptly, dismissing the mercenary with a wave of his hand as he turned back to his desk and the book. "I'll be in contact should I need anything," he added, waiting for Sephiroth to take his leave.

"You are meddling with higher affairs than a puppet is intended to," the silver-haired man said softly, his green eyes narrowing with suspicion as he gazed coldly at Strife. "I will be waiting," he added, pausing momentarily before exiting Strife's office.

Letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, Strife studied the door to his office. Averting his eyes, he picked up the book, blowing on it harshly to free the last remaining traces of dust from the cover. Though he was slightly angry at the term 'puppet', the book held a higher interest at the moment.

"Meteor," he murmured, scanning the first page. Perhaps he was meddling in affairs larger than intended. His eyes narrowed on the page. Certain affairs had to be meddled in, no matter what.

* * *

Ah! The first chapter! Which Tadpole has officialy finished editing at approximately 3:28 A.M. Read and review! 


	3. Chapter Two

_Sinner's Decent_

**_Chapter Two-Dangerous Opposition_**

"Where the fuck is my coffee?"

"Coming, sir!" Yuffie hurried through the sliding, automatic glass doors of the office, a steaming mug of coffee in her hand, burning her thumb and forefinger, though she didn't dare complain. Complaining meant losing her job, as low as it was, which meant losing her source of income, something she wasn't interested in doing.

"Hurry the fuck up!"

Yuffie refrained from rolling her eyes as she bumped the door open and nearly dropped the coffee on Seifer's desk. He was a complete asshole, yet one of the richest twenty year olds in Midgar. Although Yuffie didn't really go for the spoiled, rich type, Seifer could be tamed. "Coffee, sir," she said sweetly, turning on her heel.

"Don't stare if you don't want me!" Seifer called mockingly, giving a small salute when Yuffie turned straight back around, a flush coloring her cheeks. She muttered under her breath, passing Seifer's Advisor, a young blonde whom she didn't know by name, completely ignoring him as he strutted into the office.

"Seifer, old boy!" Gippal greeted brightly, lifting his hand in greeting. Seifer flashed a cheesy grin, getting up from his seat to clap Gippal on the shoulder.

"How fares the weapons shit, Gippal?" he asked amiably, gesturing toward the seat across from his own. He and Gippal weren't much on formalities, seeing how they had known each other for quite some time.

"Straight to the point, eh, buddy? You're gettin' old!" Gippal scolded, shaking his head as he reached into the pocket of his baggy pants. "I'll show ya the weapons in a minute, but I think you oughtta see this right away," Gippal added, handing a small, folded piece of paper to his boss.

Seifer scanned it quickly, raising his head to meet Gippal's eyes and lift an eyebrow. "I'm impressed you managed to get a personal note from Devil's, but I already know about this," he added, tapping the letter against his palm loudly with a superior look. Gippal's grin widened, and he nodded his head at the paper once again.

"Uh, uh, read further, Seifer. Check the bottom there, with the messy handwriting. After it talks about that sack writin' Gijitsu for help. See it?" he asked, leaning over the desk and shoving his finger under the words where the paragraph started.

The amusement drained from Seifer's face as he studied the writing carefully. "Ain't materia that funny shit Strife and his pals mess around with? Coulda sworn that stuff was banned after some phsyco tried to blow up the world," he added thoughtfully, scratching his freshly shaved chin.

"Yep, but check it out. It says the book was taken. Now, according to my sources, which are really reliable," Gippal added with a wink,"The sack was killed close to mid-morning. Dunno how you could kill that thing though. Heard he had a buncha shit livin' in 'em, like worms and all kinds of flesh-eatin' bugs, and-"

"Gippal! Get to the point," Seifer interjected, rolling his eyes and leaning forward, resting his chin on his hands. Gippal nodded, shaking his head to clear it of cobwebs.

"Yeah, so the sack was killed round mid-morning,and the book was stolen around mid-morning.A guy went back in to check out an intruder alert, and found it missing.The other books on the shelf had been messed with, too. So that means that our intruder guy was pretty good, 'cause he got in _when_ they had the meeting, and snuck _out_ before _them_. He's a pro. And we only know one person who can do such work, right, old buddy?" Gippal asked, giving a predatory grin toward Seifer.

"That silver-haired guy? No shittin' me! It has to be! He's been doin' stuff with Strife, according to my spies! Shit! You know what we could feed this to Devil's for? Gippal, you're a genius!" Seifer exclaimed, a greedy light coming into his eyes as he rubbed his hands together, chuckling lightly.

"I do try," Gippal said off-handedly, leaning back to airily inspect his nails. "So, when do you wanna hear about the weapons?" Gippal continued, dropping the airy tone and leaning forward in his chair once again to get back down to business. Seifer would have none of it, however.

"Who the fuck cares about that weapons shit! We got information to send! Get me Maleficent or Ansem, or one of them creepy bastards! I gotta set up a deal here!" Seifer added, nodding his head at Gippal and pacing the floor. "Just what I need," he muttered, a smirk settling on his face. "Just what I need."

* * *

He was cold. He was cold, shivering, and in desperate need of warmth. Either that, or he was going to freeze his fucking balls off. So much for service. He gazed impatiently at the gates, waiting for them to spring open and let him in. Let him in to warmth, life, and unfrozen balls. He was considering having kids one day.

"The Boss'll see you now," a gruff voice informed him. It was a tall, dark-skinned man, with a burly beard and piercing dark eyes. "Come on, now! We ain't got all fucking day!"

"Excuse me if my limbs are a bit sore," he snapped, giving his shivering frame a pointed look. Whereas the man had on a thick, furry jacket, he had only regular clothing, unaccustomed to the Sector Seven frequent and uncharted cold spells.

"Stop complainin'," the man ordered, nearly shoving him into the elevator. "Fifteenth floor, no higher, no lower," he added, narrowing his eyes in silent warning.

Not bothering to reply as the elevator doors shut in the burly man's face, the other man in the elevator quickly inspected his raw, red hands, holding them up to his mouth and blowing gently to make the feeling return. When the elevator slowed to a step, he stepped out quickly, soaking up the heated rooms of the building. Maybe the service just wasn't good outside.

Almost as soon as he turned the corner, he was assualted by two over-zealous guards, rather young in appearance, who tackled him to the ground and slammed his cheek to the floor. He ground his teeth together to keep from retaliating. He had heard that Strife was a rather moody man.

"Let him up, you dimwits."

Looking up at the sound of the bored tone of voice, the man pinned to the ground bit back a scathing retort. It must be Strife. A messy mop of blonde hair accompanied by Mako-induced eyes, something people new very little of, was known only to one man, and a rather intimidating man he was. Rather short in stature, Strife wasn't even six feet, yet he had a commanding presence about him, as if he were magnatized, drawing the attention of those around him like moths to a light.

"Sorry 'bout that, Leonheart," Strife said, shooting the two guards, who were now scuffing their boots against the plush carpet sheepishly, pitiful looks. "Unfortunately, these two will have to do until I get my personals back," he added, grimacing at a private thought.

Squall nodded in confirmation, not exactly sure what Strife was talking about. Moving a stray lock of dark hair from his face, he stood up, nearly matching Strife in height as he followed him down the hall to two locked, solid metal doors. Following Strife in quickly, Squall assumed that he had already been informed by Haschel that this was urgent, he took a seat uneasily, staring at his leg as he waited for Strife to seat himself.

"So, what's the old coots up to?" Strife asked, getting straight to business as he propped his feet up on his desk. "I hear this was urgent enough to pull me from my own business, and I trust Haschel and Cid's judgement. Fire away," he added, giving Squall a scrutinizing look.

Squall took a deep breath, preparing to start. As one of Haschel's leading Advisors, it was up to him to do this correctly. "As you know, Oogie Boogie was terminated two days ago by his own Advisors. We recieved an urgent letter from him prior to the incident stating that he was in need of assistance-"

"And I'm assuming that Haschel chucked it through the shredder, right?" Strife interjected, raising an eyebrow. Squall bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling at the jab at Oogie. The sack was never taken seriously, and what Strife had said was deathly accurate.

"He didn't take Oogie Boogie up on the offer," Squall continued, straightening in his chair. "We were also informed that a certain book was excluded from the room where the sack was terminated. A book on Ancient Materia, to be exact," Squall said, watching Strife's face closely. He was taken aback to see a small flicker of amusement pass through his eyes before his face went completely blank.

"What of it?" Strife prompted, leaning back casually in his chair. Squall debated which route to take with his next words, finally deciding on a direct one after worrying his bottom lip for some time.

"You, the mercenary Sephiroth, and now Gijitsu, are the only people currently known to have knowledge of materia and it's uses," Squall said rather slowly. Strife let out a hollow laugh, the sound not reaching his eyes.

"I believe we're through here," Strife said, standing abruptly. "Tell Haschel and Cid everything is under control," he added, turning his back, dismissing Squall.

Squall opened his mouth to protest, but he snapped it back shut immediately. It wasn't right for him to say anything more than neccesary, lest he endanger the Alliance. Striding out of Strife's office quickly, he shut the door, making his way to the elevator.

Strife let out a heavy breath when the Advisor left his room. He hadn't been looking forward to the meeting, though it was inevitble. Haschel had tried to snag him on the phone for a personal conversation, but he would have none of it. Apparently, everyone thought he was incapable of handling such a situation. He gave the wooden walls of his office a pensive frown, his brows drawing together as he studied them.

He needed to inform Tifa. She would know what to do. As much as he hated to admit it, he relied on her to keep him sane. She was always there when he needed her, even if it wasn't always the same for him.

Shaking his head to prevent a trip down memory lane, he buzzed for Tifa, who had been promoted to his personal secretary. He had insisted that she take a higher standing job, but she had replied that she was happy working only for him, something that caused his chest to ache. It was all muddled with Tifa, no matter how many times he tried to pick his way through it.

"Cloud?"

He nearly smiled. He hadn't heard the name in a while. Turning around to offer her a smile in greeting, he stopped short, eyes going wide. She looked a mess. Her hair was wild and tangled, not the usual tamed ponytail, as was her custom. Her clothes looked rumpled as well, and she was sagging in her shoes, barely able to stand upright.

"Tifa, you okay?" he asked, forgetting the important matter at hand. She sighed, waving his concern off with a hand, which held a rather thick stack of papers. He narrowed his eyes, looking from the papers, to her face, and then back.

"What did you need?" she asked gently, reminding him what he had buzzed her for. He felt a pang of guilt at his stupidity. How could he not have noticed her horrible condition? And here he was trying to load more work on her already busy schedule.

"I-well-It's nothing, Tifa. Just checking up on you," he lied quickly, averting his eyes when her own narrowed in accord with his. "Look, maybe you should take a few days off or something," he said, shifting uncomfortably. It was very rare that he showed open concern for another.

"I'm fine," she insisted, closing the door after stepping further into the office. "Now, what is it? I'm assuming it had to do with Haschel's Advisor? Anything big?" she asked, reading his expression. He sighed, feeling terrible as he re-seated himself, putting his head in his hands.

"Tifa, I think you should see this," he said quietly, withdrawing the book from his drawer and sliding it across his desk to her. She picked it up, her lips thinning immediately as she slowly lifted her eyes back up to Strife's.

"What is it, Cloud?" she asked, her tone becoming flat and defeated as she stared at the writing on the book cover with a forlorn look.Strife blinked a few times. What did she mean, what was it? "What do you want to tell me that I don't know?" she asked, her every syllable sounding strained. Strife's eyes widened in horror. He had completely forgotten, for one of the very few times in his life, about Aeris.

"Tifa, look, I didn't mean anything about that-" he began, hurrying up from his chair to catch her wrist before she could leave the room. "Look, Sephiroth got it for me," he said uneasily, releasing her wrist when she made no further move to leave his office. "I found something out," he finished, grinding his teeth when she inhaled sharply. Even he could tell she was trying hard to keep from crying.

"You'll take care of it, Cloud. You always do," she said softly,walking quicklyfrom the room. Strife sank down in his chair, putting his face in his hands. How had he managed to fuck things up even worse?

He laughed bitterly, throwing the book a withering look. He always took care of things. It was just that this time there was a chance that he might not be able to.

* * *

There! Just a small chapter to explain a bit from our dearly beloved Cloud. Did I mention I'm a Cloud-groupie? Love him, love all silver-haired men. I'm telling you, it's pathetic! Yeah, read and review. 


	4. Chapter Three

_Sinner's Descent_

**Thanks to the reviewers who took the time to read the story. And no, I can't answer any questions, because Tadpole will have my head if I do. And to sucks, our first flame after seven reviews, no, we don't do 'druhs', whatever that is, and if you wanna flame us, leave your email adress! Show some balls, people! Lol, altogether, the flame was hilarious, and you should read it, by clicking the number next to reviews, just so you can laugh. Now, on to chapter three.**

**_Chapter Three-Moving Behind The Scenes_**

"Very well, Leonheart." Haschel abruptly dismissed his Advisor, turning to his large, glass windows with a marked frown. So, it seemed that Strife was unwilling to gain cooperation, which presented a greater problem than Haschel had anticipated. Turning with a sigh back to his office, he called for T.G., his partner in crime, as many preffered to put it.

It was a few minutes before the Thundergod arrived, as spick and span as usual. Shiny, polished boots, a crisp white shirt, and dressy black slacks. Haschel could almost laugh at his companion's apparel. It completely belied the wrong tone to Cid's adversaries, something that had greatly benefited them in their years of business together.

"Looking good today, Cid," Haschel said lightly, a smirk settling on his face as Cid gave a mock bow, seating himself across from Haschel.

"What brings me here, old boy?" T.G. inquired, settling down more comfortably in his chair and crossing one ankle over his raised knee. "I am a busy man, you know," he added, giving Haschel a conspiratol wink. Haschel chuckled, shaking his head as he extracted a file from his mountain of papers.

"I figured you would like to know about this," he said casually, tossing it at the Thungergod. Cid caught it easily, lifting the paper and snapping it rigid in a practiced motion as he whipped a set of spectacles out of his breast pocket. He gave a curt nod every now and then, his eyes narrowing with interest as he finally finished the paper.

"Considering what you've given me, Haschel, I'm assuming that you are ready for a plan of action?" Cid asked, putting the tip of his glasses between his teeth after sliding them off his nose. "And may I suggest something?" he added, cocking an eyebrow in Haschel's direction.

"Go right ahead. I'm open for new ideas," Haschel replied gravely, leveling Cid with a suspicious look.

"Please, get rid of the violet tie, Haschel, you dog. It's horrible in comparison to that shirt," Cid said, managing to keep a straight face. Haschel's lips twitched unusually, but he managed to refrain his smile as he gave a serious nod and look to his mentioned tie.

"I'll do that. Any ideas about Strife?" he asked, his chest rising sharply as he managed to turn a laugh into a cough. Cid chuckled, shaking his head and shrugging.

"Not a thing."

Haschel gave a condescending sigh, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as he snatched the file back from Cid. "Great lot of help you are, partner. Anyways, about what I was saying earlier. Perhaps we should pay old Sephiroth a visit. He's evaded us for quite some time, and it would be nice to stop and have a... Friendly chat, wouldn't you agree?" Haschel asked, giving the Thundergod a pointed look.

"Bring in the Negotiatior? Hmm, I like the way you think, old man. I'll get right on it. In the meantime, do go home and change that tie. I mean it, you know," Cid added, giving Haschel a jaunty wave before closing the doors to his office.

* * *

Maleficent walked slowly and deliberately through the halls of the building. She rushed for nobody, including the new found leader of Devil's Anthem. Giving the guards at the door to his elaborate office withering looks, she made no effort to speak as they snapped to attention, opening the doors quickly and silently, bowing low to the ground before slamming them shut behind her.

"Ansem," she said simply, inclining her head in silent respect. There were few, in her opinion, who could rival her power's of cunning and scheming, and Ansem was one of them. He was entitled to at least a small show of respect on her part.

"Maleficent," Ansem said, giving her a tight smile. He had been thoroughly evasive the past few days, missing appointments with his new Advisor's and associates. The thought made Maleficent return to her usual demeaning self, and she lifted her chin slightly. Unreliability was not something she tolerated.

"I assume you know why I am here," she said quietly, gazing at him steadily. He matched her eye contact, squinting as if he couldn't see her quite clearly. She lifted an eyebrow slowly, the action causing him to sigh.

"I have been busy, Maleficent." He stood from his chair, hands folded behind his back in a proper manner. Striding toward his filing cabinet, he ran his finger across the lock. The sliding drawer sprang open, and he thumbed through a few files before extracting one rather thick one. "You are here because of the book," he added, setting the file down on his desk.

Maleficent read the title silently, finally dragging her eyes back to Ansem after some time. "Yes."

"Well, don't worry about it. I am unawares as to who took it, though I have a very reasonable guess. Not many know of him," Ansem said, his face becoming blank as he stared back at the witch.

Maleficent let out a hollow, dry chuckle. "I know of the mercenary, Ansem." She narrowed her eyes, moving back toward the door. It was apparent that he would not release any information. "You would be wise to cease this nonsense of feigning innocence. It would also do you well to remember the trouble itcaused for our former leader," she added, pausing for better effect before walking slowly from the office.

Ansem narrowed his eyes at the closing doors, mentally cursing the sneaky witch. She wasn't to be trusted, no matter how usefull her prowess in planning would be. She was too shady and uncertain about her alliegance, something he was not interested in for his plan to overtake the Sectors of Midgar.

Sighing heavily, he thumbed through the file sitting on his desk. He opened it widely, his eyes landing on a single name. "It appears, Sephiroth, that you were quite the troublemaker with your little materia stunt. Perhaps a certain book holds your interest," he muttered, giving the paper a smug look before tossing it back onto his desk. He reached for his secretary's button. He had important things to take care of.

* * *

The rain landed heavily on the cement roads of Sector Six, Midgar, forming puddles along the sidewalks. It was a nuisance to many passersyby, as they were usually soaked from head to foot when speeding cars purposefully swerved into the puddles for sport.

Not many people were walking the sidewalks that night. It was cold and bitter in Sector Six, being a close relative of the weather-unreliable Sector Seven. All those who were walking the streets had on tightly pulled hoods and raincoats, making camouflage a very easy feat.

It served it's purpose for the two men standing silently in the alley behind the abandoned church. They were leaning casually under a small lean-to, no doubt built by adsent homeless folks, as if avoiding the rain. They were, however, waiting for a certain someone. Someone who was very important to the plans they had going. Very important indeed.

He arrived shortly, never one to be late for such an important meeting. A hood was pulled over his head, though a few tendrils of silver hair still protruded from the space beneath his ears. The other two snapped to attention when he neared them, his pace brisk and quick.

"Sephiroth. How kind of you to join us," the closest said.

"Cease the pleasantries, Kadaj," Sephiroth said curtly. He narrowed his eyes on his fellow silver-haired companion. "You're communications with the Mako?" he asked, his tone dulled by the pattering of the rain on the roof of the lean-to.

Kadaj managed a dry chuckle, shaking his head and lowering his hood slowly. "Much greater than we believed, Sephiroth. The pools should be thawed by the end of the year, if not sooner," he said crisply, the amusement draining from his face. Sephiroth smiled in satisfaction, though the action did not reach his eyes.

He turned slowly to their third companion, who had remained silent throughout the conversation. "How fares your interaction with the other Alliances?" Sephiroth asked quietly. His tone softened somewhat, though it was still very far from pleasant.

"Ansem has assumed leadership of Devil's Anthem. Haschel is currently hunting you, along with Seifer. Strife has no apparent interest, however," the man replied, his voice low and soft in pitch. Sephiroth nodded, turning back to Kadaj.

"See to it that the Mako plans run smoothly, Kadaj." With that, he resumed his walk on the rain-wettened streets of Sector Six, becoming nothing more than a lingering shadow before he disappeared into another side alley.

"Not a very pleasant fellow, is he?" Kadaj asked, turning to the silent man. His lips shifted in a mocking smile.

"Not very," the silent man agreed, giving a firm nod before disappearing as well.

* * *

The scent of lust permeated the air in a thick cloud, settling onto every thing and being in the room. It was laced into the rugs, the chairs, the sofas, even the women settled about on the furniture.

Seifer sat at the far end of the room, surrounded by an entourage of females, all stretched languidly on his lap, vying for his attention, their faces made up heavily. Seifer himself seemed uninterested in the women's attention. He had a thick, double-rolled cigar in his mouth, blowing a cloud of curtling smoke at the women as he scanned the room quickly with his eyes.

"Seifer, honey, don't you wanna have some fun?" one of the women asked, her voice low and purring as she ran an experienced hand over his knee and inner thigh. Seifer gave her a steady look, a smile creeping slowly onto his face. She was an attractive blonde with a killer form, something he looked for in all of his whores.

"Nah, I'm waitin' for someone," he said breezily, swatting her hand away. She gave an exaggerated pout, her hands coming to rest on his chest as she scooted even further onto his lap.

"But I thought I was special," she murmured, leaning in closely, pressing her feminine assets against him in a very seductive manner. "Don't you wanna see _how_ special?" she purred, licking around the shell of his ear.

"Yo! Gippal, there you are!" Seifer called, nearly dumping the scantily clad woman off his lap as he stood to greet his Advisor. "I've been waitin' for an hour!"

"Seifer!" the woman objected, reaching up to grab his hand. Gippal joined Seifer, a feral grin plastered on his face as he eyed the woman.

"Later, Quisty, not now," Seifer said, sighing heavily as he nudged Gippal. "Back room," he ordered, marching across the women scattered about the floors and room, all awaiting the work day to start. "Hey, take it out front!" Seifer bellowed, startling the couple that lay entwined in the single bed contained in the room.

The woman, another blonde, rose quickly, unabashed at her nudity. The male, however, pulled on his shorts, hastily following the woman through the door. Gippal chuckled as he sank down in chair next to the bed, giving Seifer an envious look.

"Ain't you ever tempted?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and giving the rumpled bed a meaningful look. Seifer grinned widely, patting the bed fondly.

"I'm only tempted if they make their money," he replied smartly, settling down in a chair next to Gippal's. "So, did you find him?" he asked, turning to his Advisor.

Gippal shook his head in a defeated manner, his shoulders slumping heavily as he braced his arms on the chair rests. "No luck, man. The guy is fucking invisible. We got patrols in every Sector, and there's still no sight of him," Gippal replied. Seifer confirmed the news with a nod, gripping the armrest tightly.

"We gotta find him before those bastards at Gijitsu or Underground do! I already set the deal with that wierd witch up! I want that money, Gippal!" Seifer exclaimed, throwing his Advisor a testy look. Gippal grimaced, nodding his head in a quick manner.

"Yeah, I know, Seifer. I put up double effort on everything, so we'll see how that goes tomorrow. As for now, we ain't got shit," he said gravely, sighing and resting his cheek on his fist.

Seifer remained silent, opting instead to stare at the rumpled sheets on the bed. He finally stood up, nodding his head jerkily at Gippal. "See that it get's done, Gip," he said, swiftly exiting the room. Gippal stared after him for a while, throwing the door a dirty look.

"'See that it get's done, Gip'," he mocked with a sneer, giving the bed a frustrated look. Fucking Seifer and his arrogant ass. He stood abruptly, making his way to the door. He stopped short when it swung open, admitting a sultry looking female dressed in a bikini bottom and nothing else.

"Seifer said that you could use a distraction. My name's Alma," she said throatily, offering her hand, though it didn't reach for Gippal's own. Gippal smiled, looking back at the closed door. Fucking Seifer and his arrogant ass.

* * *

Chapter Three is all done! Everyone should bow, bow low and heavy, to Tadpole! God, I love her! She managed to find, for a hefty price, the one and only Mariah Carey CD I do not own, which I do now! Whoot! She finally found the Daydream CD! Yay! Heehehhee! Bow to Tadpole and her awesomeness, after you read and review! 


	5. Chapter Four

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Chapter Four-Hunting the Hunter_**

They were waiting for him. He could sense the animosity coming from the back alley of Sector Three. He could sense it quite clearly. They were foolish people, the three of them. He could also feel the fear emanating from each of them. A smug smile formed on his lips. It seemed he lived up to his notorious reputation.

How foolish, indeed, for them to hunt him. He was not one to be caught, not under any circumstances. He almost felt a small fraction of pity for their ignorance. Almost.

However, the almost acounted to nothing when he reached both hands to his waist, each landing on two deadly weapons. The Masamune, a sword only he himself could control, and the silver gun sititng in it's holster. Though he was new to the era of guns and shooting, his aim was deadly, and it was widely known.

Pulling the gun, he took careless aim at the wall where the hunters resided. Firing a single bullet, he was off in a flash, pushing past frightened bystanders, moving nearly as fast as the bullet as he made his way down to the end of the street. He was a strong man, but also a wise one, and he knew when to pick his fights with three trained negotiatiors. In the middle of a public street with distractions was not a choice spot.

Leaping over a fallen child, he made a sharp left, hoping lithely onto a garbage can and clearing the wall seperating Sector Three from Sector Two. Landing softly on the opposite side, he took his deliberate time in dusting off his sweeping black cloak. He was impossible to pursure now. They would never clear the wall in time.

Holstering his gun, he rubbed the handle of Masamune with a wistful sigh. It had never been drawn past his former failure with Meteor. Not because he didn't want to. Quite the contrary. He had been craving to bring it through the flesh of a lesser being. The times simply did not call for it. The days of the sword were long gone, and Masamune rested at his side only because of his lingering infatuation with it.

Strolling calmly down the streets of Sector Two, he stopped at a small street market, picking up a Paopu fruit and tossing it in the air. After a suspicious glance from the owner of the stand, he placed it back down gently, offering a small smile as he moved along his way.

* * *

"What do you mean, he got away?"

Gippal was at his wit's ends. He had sent the three of them with distinct instructions to kill him. How hard was it to tag one man and take him down? Surely the guy wasn't all that, was he?

A young boy, no more than sixteen, offered a heavy sigh as he crossed his arms and gave Gippal a miffed look. "He got away. Hopped over the Sector Two wall. How were we supposed to follow him?" Sora asked, hand lowering to the handle of the Keyblade.

Kairi gave an encouraging nod. "Yeah, he jumped right over it! Never saw someone jump so high, right, Sora?" she asked, turning to the boy. Sora gave Gippal a smug look, as if to say 'I told you so'.

Gippal let out something between a grunt and a growl, a clear sign of his frustration. "This is what I get for sending a buncha fucking kids to do this work," he muttered, throwing the three of them a dark look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Riku spoke up quietly. He was leaning casually against the wall to the office, an uninterested look on his face, though his eyes followed Gippal's every move.

"Nothin'," Gippal snapped. "You got one more chance, or I'll show you to Seifer," he warned, nodding his head at the door for them to get out. "Now get. I don't wanna see you three bastards till that guy is dead and gone, understand?"

The three teenagers took their leave of the room, leaving Gippal behind to rant and rave at nothing and noone. He was going to bear the brunt of Seifer's disappointment for the three Negotiatiors missing the kill. It was going to be him who had to deal with the arrogant bragging of Seifer. With a resigned sigh, he made his way out of the office and to the elevator. Might as well get it done and over with.

* * *

"Come on, Yuna, let's go in there!"

Yuna couldn't help but smile at the eagerness in his voice as he snatched her hand and dragged her toward the clothing store. His first time in the Sector Five Department Store, or so he claimed.

"Tidus, I still can't believe you've never been here," she commented, watching in amusement as he thumbed through racks of clothing, a light in his eyes. He looked up, giving her a cheeky grin.

"Nope, sure haven't. I stay in Sector One mostly," he replied absently, reaching into the rack and extracting a single article of clothing. "This one!" he announced, leaving her momentarily to go to the changing rooms. While he was inside struggling with the clothes, Yuna ambled over to the counter, where Lulu, her best friend, stood behind the register.

"Hi, Lulu," she said quietly, giving the dressing rooms a quick glance. Lulu followed her gaze, a smile forming on her lips.

"Out with the blonde, hmm?" Lulu asked casually, flipping through a magazine advertising the store. Yuna gave a solemn nod, falling silent as Tidus emerged. She smashed her hand to her mouth to hold back her laugh when he stepped out, throwing the curtains back dramatically.

He had on a ridiculously small yellow vest, open, though you couldn't tell. The vest was on backwards, the seams straining against his broad chest as he strutted proudly toward her.

"You like it?" he asked, winking. Yuna grabbed the side of the counter, holding on to keep from falling to the floor in laughter. Lulu chuckled, though the sound was foreign to the overly-serious woman.

"If you break the seams you buy it," she informed him, putting the magazine back on the rack. Tidus gave a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head in a boyish manner.

"Eh, I guess it wouldn't hurt to say that the zipper broke off now, would it?" he asked, turning around and sticking a thumb blindly behind him. Yuna collapsed once again in laughter as Lulu sighed, shaking her head, though a smile remained on her lips.

As Tidus was finalizing his debt with another clerk, Lulu pulled Yuna aside, giving her a steady look. "So, Yuna, find anything you like?" she asked, her lips thinning at the secretive look Yuna gave her.

"Yes, we're looking for, _something_, but we haven't found it yet," she replied, her voice low. Lulu nodded gravely, giving her hand a quick squeeze before turning back to Tidus.

"I suggest you be along your way then, young man. There's lots to see in the Department Store," she added lightly, giving Yuna meaningful look. Yuna nodded, pausing at the doors to look back at Lulu one more time before Tidus dragged her out of the store.

As soon as the two of them disappeared down the street, Lulu exited the store, making her way towards the opposite corner. She whipped out her cell phone, dialing a number quickly and giving a gaurded look around the plaza she had entered after crossing the street.

"Yes, put me through to Haschel. This is Lulu." After a few nods and a muffled 'hello', she put her mouth closer to the phone, hiding it from view in case someone was watching. "Yuna informed me that Seifer is hunting him as well. They could have cut a deal with Devil's to retrieve the book. No, Yuna is still out. It appears that Northside is more involved than we thought. Yes, I'm in a secured location. Very well, I'll be there in ten minutes." She flipped the cell phone shut, stuffing it back into the folds of her dress before starting at a brisk pace.

It seemed that the ever-hunted Sephiroth had been sighted by three Negotiatiors from an unknown Alliance. From the information Yuna had just gleaned from Tidus, Lulu could only assume that Northside was doing much better in their hunt for the mercenary. And if Northside caught him, then there was no telling what would happen. Seifer was an arrogant, cunning man, only with his best interests at heart. No, it wouldn't do well at all for Northside to obtain Sephiroth.

* * *

Strife flipped through the book absently. He had left a note with Tifa to leave him undisturbed until the end of the day, unless it was an emergancy. He had left the book in his desk drawer for a week, mentally stomping himself for being such a coward.

However, as he browsed through the different types of materia used by his ancestors, he realized his worst fear was coming true. From the first page to the one he was currently on, the book explained everything Strife had been wanting to know. It also informed him that the world was in for a rougher ride than expected. At least that of Midgar.

"Ansem, you bastard, what are you after?" he muttered to himself, flipping to the next page. He felt a small pang in his chest as he read the materia title. The powerful 'Holy'. He swallowed hard, blinking several times as a floodgate of memories was released.

Watching Sephiroth as he came down. Putting Aeris into the river, watching her peaceful face as it floated underwater, out of his reach, out of anyone's. Shaking his head, he failed to notice, Tifa, who stood at the door, arms crossed over her chest in silent observation.

"Cloud, Barret's here for you. Says he has important information," she said softly. He didn't look up, but he gave a jerky nod. Tifa sighed, her eyes becoming darker as she fetched Barret. "He's lost in that book again," she said, placing her hand on his arm. Barret had a look of understanding in his eyes as he nodded his head.

"Take it easy, Tifa. Go spend some time with Marlene if you like," Barret said gruffly, giving her shoulder a brief squeeze. Tifa smiled bitterly, shaking her head as she moved past him. He sighed, pushing the door open with more force than he intended.

He stopped short when he was met with the site of his boss. Strife was slumped in his chair, the book laying open on his lap, though from his glassy eyes and dazed look, he was not reading, or at least at the moment. He was nearly halfway through the book.

"Spike!" he bellowed, smashing his hand on the desk. He was pissed at what he was doing to Tifa, yet he respected a man's choices. "Spike!" he hollered once again, this time reaching forward to snatch the book from his lap. He jerked back in astonishment when Strife's hand caught his wrist, preventing him from touching the book.

"Barret," Strife said quietly, back to his former self. His eyes lost their foggy touch and he seemed focused as he stared blankly at Barret. Barret narrowed his eyes, pulling his hand back slowly.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" he demanded, leaning forward to get a peek at Strife's current page. Some weird thing about old materia. "What the fuck you reading?" he asked instead, knowing he wouldn't get an answer for his previous question.

"Materia," Strife replied absently, marking his page and setting the book in his desk drawer. Barret gave him a meaningful look. Strife sighed, shaking his head. "It's not what you think, Barret. Tifa said you had important information?"

Barret 'humphed' at the subject change but let it slide. If Strife needed his help, he would ask. "We got trouble. Northside is after Sephiroth," he said bluntly, not into beating around the bush. Strife nodded, taking in the information.

"I see. Guess he musta pissed them off or something," he added nonchalantly.

Barret nodded his head. Yep, there was definitely something wrong with the shifty bastard. "Yeah, well, just thought I'd tell you," he said roughly, turning to leave. He trusted Strife, but he was never one to sit down for a cup of tea. He had shit to do.

Strife stared after the closed door some time after Barret left. He found himself reaching into the drawer, drawn to the book and all the answers it provided for him. If only he could have found it sooner. Sooner, and he could have saved her. Sooner, and it would have never happened.

He fingered the raised writing on the cover of the book. If only.

* * *

Thanks to all the reviewers, once again. It's encouraging to know you guys read our stuff. We love you all. So chapter four is for you guys. Muah! 


	6. Chapter Five

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Chapter Five-Of Mako And Mayhem_**

To say it was beautiful was an understatement. It was beyond the words of a human, glistening brightly in the high afternoon sun. It was beyond the words of any creature who walked the Earth, to be exact. It was stunning, spectacular, unfathomable in it's bottomless pit of beauty.

With an irritated sigh, Kadaj mentally berated himself. Honestly, he was starting to doubt his sanity. He took a few steps closer to the glittering Mako pools, reaching out to touch it. He ran a gloved finger of the frozen jet of water, feeling it's slippery, freezing surface. Withdrawing his hand, he was astonished to find traces of color where the Mako had reacted with the cloth. It meant that the thawing was coming even quicker than he had reported to Sephiroth.

He felt a bitter surge of hate at the mention of the man. Sephiroth... How he despised him. Never good enough, never strong enough, never _Sephiroth_. Pushing the thoughts from his head, Kadaj smiled secretively at his glove. Sephiroth didn't have to know about this unexpected little advancement. Neither did the silent man who always traveled with him.

Stepping back from the Mako, Kadaj, once again, found himself breathless at the sheer presence of it. How could something so beautiful, so untainted, be so powerful? Shaking his head as he mentally pondered the question, he turned to the car waiting for him just below. He might as well go back to Midgar and give Sephiroth a cover report. The man was pushy enough as it was, and without reporting, Kadaj knew he would catch Hell.

As he opened the door to the car, he glanced up at the entrance to Mythril Cave. He could have sworn he saw something move. Squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun, he peered up at the path, straining his neck to see. Shrugging it off and labeling it as the Mako effect, he entered the car, starting the ignition and pulling out.

High on the cliff, a shadowed figure waited, watching the car with incredible patience as it made it's way down the winding road toward Midgar. He was visible if he so much as moved an inch, and he certainly didn't want to be seen by the silver-haired man.

Taking a deep breath, he peeked around the corner. The car was gone now, nothing more than a small dot in the horizon, with a thick cloud of smoke billowing behind it. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he moved toward the shiny stuff that seemed frozen in place next to the mouth of the cave.

"What is it?" he muttered to himself, reaching out to touch it. He felt a jolt of electricity, not exactly harmful, but not benign either, and he withdrew his hand sharply, rubbing it with his other to return the feeling. "What the Hell?" He leaned forward, taking a big sniff. Nope, nothing.No scent, no smell. He narrowed his eyes, watching in awe as the rays of the sun caught on the shiny stuff, twinkling and glistening brightly, much like the light shows held in Sector Five.

Sighing, he crossed his arms over his chest. He had followed the silver-haired guy after a report from his boss had informed him that they were hunting a silver-haired man. Of course, he hadn't known it was the wrong silver-haired man until he had been taken all the way the Hell out here, which was, to him, nowhere. He had no idea where he was, nor any idea what the pretty stuff in front of him was.

Scratching the top of his hair, he leaned his head to the side, racking his brain for any suggestions as to what he was going to tell his boss. Shrugging, he decided on 'pretty, shiny, frozen stuff'. It seemed logical enough. Debating how he was going to get a sample of the pretty, frozen, shiny stuff, his eyes suddenly widened in surprise. How stupid was he? Why hadn't he thought of it earlier?

Reaching his tail out and flipping it toward the shiny stuff, he smiled in satisfaction when the effects of the stuff were nullified. Breaking off a small chunk with his tail, he wrapped it carefully in a piece of his shirt before hopping off the low ledge and making his way back down the trail. His boss was especially picky when it came to being on time, and Midgar was a long way to go.

* * *

Serge took a rolling dive, landing to one side of the concrete bench as he pulled a dark-haired girl beside him. Pulling the gun from the back of his waistband, he took wild aim, firing nine rounds until the gun clicked empty. Reaching in a frenzy for another clip, he slammed it in, raising the gun once more.

The girl beside him was trembling in fear, her arms covering her dark head protectively. He barely took notice of the girl as he fired back at whatever force was firing at him. It had been the first time he had ever shot a gun at someone else. The targets in practice were just paper, after all. He was sure he hadn't hit a thing, though he did manage to put a few bullet holes in windows of the nearby shop.

He also had no idea who was shooting at him or why he was being shot at. Turning back to the girl, he tapped her rigidly on the shoulder. "You okay?" he asked hoarsely, not sure if she could hear him over the din of the bullets. Hisown earshurt from the loud popping of the guns, and he could feel his arm shaking, whether in excitement or fear he didn't know.

"Yeah, I'm fine," the girl answered steadily, raising her head. Contradicting her earlier shaking and trembling, she seemed perfectly fine. "Thanks," she said, standing up. To Serge's complete amazement, another round of bullets opened up, and he was forced to tackle the girl to the ground once again. Dragging her back behind the safety of the concrete bench, he came to a conclusion: they were not firing at him, they were firing at her.

He felt the need to shoot suddenly diminish, and he put his gun down. "Why are they shootin' you?" he asked, throwing her a speculative glance as he watched their attackers. Three guys armed with AK's and dressed in black. Signs of Devil's Anthem. That also meant the girl was connected to Underground or Gijitsu, because he didn't recognize her from Northside, and because Northside and Devil's were on truce terms.

"I have no idea," she said quickly, ducking low when a bullet ricocheted off the bench, sending bits and pieces of concrete into Serge's shocking blue hair. Serge narrowed his eyes, not sure if she was telling the truth or not.

Shrugging, he decided that it wouldn't get him anywhere with the shooters. Besides, it wasn't likely that they knew he was in Northside anyways. Taking a deep breath, he let his head rise over the cover of the bench. Immediately, bullets sprayed from every direction, causing him to duck down once again, his chest rising and falling in rapid movements as he struggled for breath.

Looking back over to the girl to see if she was okay, he was surprised, and slightly irritated, to see her pulling out a cell phone, calm, as if they were onlyplaying tag with theguns, and dialing a number rather quickly. Lifting it to her ear, she ignored him as she spoke into the phone.

"Steiner?" After a quick nod, "Yes, it's me, Garnet. I need your help. Yes, it's the Anthem. I believe three of them?" Serge realized the question was directed at him and he absently nodded his head. The name Steiner wasn't familiar, nor was Garnet, but he figured neither were from Northside. "Okay." She flipped the phone shut, clutching it tightly in her hands as she flashed him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, they'll be here shortly," she said.

"They?" he asked, somewhat worried. Underground and Gijitsu weren't exactly on good terms with Northside, and he felt a small amount of trepidation.

She flashed that wierd smile again, nodding her head as she rested casually against the bench. Serge kept his gun cocked and loaded, ready in case the Devil's shooters moved closer. He didn't know how soon the girl's backup would be here, and you could never tell what a Devil's Anthem member was thinking. All of the bastards were crafty and sneaky, too much for their own good.

After hearing more gunfire, he lifted his head, peeping over the bench at the area of the shooters. To his surprise, he saw a man with a tail, another dressed in silver plates, and another, a man with a blindfold over his eyes. Standing up, he lifted the gun, not sure if they were enemies or not. He must have looked a sorry sight, though. There was rock dust all over his clothes, due to the decaying bench, and hair, and even _he_ could see his arm shaking, the gun along with it.

The man with the blindfold strode forward, lifting the girl gently. "Steiner, take care of her transportation," the blindfolded man said quickly. The boy with the tail jumped toward Serge, narrowing his eyes.

"Northside?" the boy with the tail asked. Serge remained oddly silent, not sure if he should answer this or not. The blindfolded man moved forward sharply, grabbing Serge by the collar and shoving him back.

"Run along back to Seifer. See to it that you stay out of Underground and Gijitsu territory," the man added, waving his hand at the entrance to Sector Two. "Now, go."

Serge nodded blankly, turning on his heel and sprinting away. He kept a cautious eye out, though. It seemed that random shooting was apart of today's world afterall.

* * *

"You mean to tell me, Hook, that three of our leading shooters were taken down by Underground associates?" Ansem swiveled in his chair, lifting his eyes to give the pirate a burning glare.

"I'm not the one who trained them," Hook snapped, his voice full of contempt. He had been happy when Oogie Boogie had been removed, but he wasn't so sure he was liking the fact that Ansem was leader now. It seemed that nothing happened but more death and loss, due to the arrogant leader's tyrany.

"Yes, but you are the one who deployed them," Ansem retorted, his voice equally as scornful. Hook lifted his chin in silent disdain, his eyes narrowing.

"As you just said, they were the three best," he said calmly, the jab hitting home when Ansem stiffened with insult. He suddenly nodded his head, looking up at Hook with a casual smirk.

"Indeed, they were. Which is why it is now the sole duty of yourself and Jafar to find me ten better shooters. Lure them from other Alliances if you must. When you are finished, fetch Kuja and send him in," Ansem added, cutting off the infuriated Hook's reply.

Hook stomped out of the office, completely ignoring Ansem's order to find the majestic sorcerer. He was in search of Jafar, whom he found lounging in his own small office, sitting comfortably on a single cushion, his Staff of Snakes clutched loosely in one hand.

"Jafar," Hook barked, instantly drawing the man's attention. "We need to talk," Hook said, throwing the empty hall a cautious look before closing the door. "It's about Ansem, and his leadership," Hook said quietly. After a curt nod, Jafar stood up, making his way toward the pirate.

* * *

Haschel slammed his fist against the desk in an unusual show of rage. "What do you mean, you can't find him? Nanaki, you are one of my most trusted Advisors! I was assured that you would be able to complete this task!" he ranted, his face reddening in anger.

In truth, it wasn't the simple fact of the mercenary's sudden disappearance that had him so riled. It was the constant battles with the other Alliances that grated on his nerves. A fact Nanaki was fully aware of, giving him good enough reason to remain silent as his boss shouted like a lunatic.

"Are you incapable of such a small objection? Perhaps you would be useful somewhere else, then?" Haschel threatened, the very thought causing his own bones to quake. Nanaki was too much of an asset, something he surely knew himself.

"I assure you, Haschel, everything is being done to capture him. Sephiroth has a habit of slipping through your fingers when being sought out," he added knowingly, inclinging his beastly head in a show of humility.

His only replied was an irritated sigh from Haschel. The older man suddenly stood, making his way over to the glass windows surrounding his office. Nanaki had a heavy suspicion as to what the leader was thinking about as he looked down on the streets of the Sector.

"It's all falling apart, Nanaki," Haschel said quietly. "Everything Strife, Cid, and myself have worked for. The peace, the friendship, the alliances between Alliances, it is all crumbling." Nanaki nodded silently, joining Haschel. Even as they spoke, a ruffian could be seen down below, decked in black, brandishing a knife wildly at two other thugs.

"It was inevitable, the failure. However, I never expected to see it in my lifetime. I assume that if things should turn sour you will continue with the work?" Haschel asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the glass. Nanaki nodded once again, this time voicing his opinion.

"The work will never die, Haschel, not as long as Midgar lives. However, the Mako worries me. Should Strife not handle this, there will be dire consequences." Haschel gave a nod of his own at the beast's wisely spoken, yet tragic, words.

"Yes. I can only trust Strife in his ploy to stop this. After all, he does have that book. I am curious as to what it holds," Haschel added, stroking his chin thoughtfully, much of his former curious self returning as his anger disappated.

"It is unlikely that we will ever know." It wasn't exactly a sad statement, more of a fact. "However, Strife is not beyond reasoning. Perhaps you may send another Advisor to speak with him besides Leonheart. Or perhaps you should speak with another in the Alliance. I hear he has close ties to the Negotiatior," Nanaki added, inclining his head once again, this time in thought.

Haschel nodded at the reasonable offers. Maybe he was getting too stressed out over finding the mercenary. Besides, Strife possibly knew the mercenary personally, which put him at a much better chance in finding him than Haschel would ever have.

He looked down at Nanaki. "I will allow you to take action this time, Nanaki. My patience is too thin for this strenuous work," he added, nodding his head. Nanaki ambled back out the door, as silent and wise as ever, his tail flicking out behind him.

Haschel watched him go in silent respect. He was one of the best in the business, the beast. Though his outward appearance seemed to fool many into ignorance, Haschel had recognized the quiet knowledge immediately, and had offered him a job as Advisor straight away. A smile graced Haschel's wizened face. It seemed that the action had payed off.

* * *

And so, this is chapter five! Oh, by the way, to the person who sent me the email asking for Cait Sith to be in this, I am terribly sorry, but NO. I hate it. It was a complete waste of character in Final Fantasy VII, in my opinion. I can't stand to think about the stupid bastard, let alone write about him. Sorry, once again. Just can't do it! And thank you to the faithful reviewers. You don't know how much it means to us to know that our story is being read, considering that it started off as a stupid argument between us! Read and review! 


	7. Chapter Six

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Chapter Six-Severed And Tied_**

Seifer could feel a cool drop of sweat slip from his brow onto his cheek, and he reached a hand up absently to wipe it away. It was stiflingly hot in the room, and he desperately wanted to shed his coat, but he was told that Ansem would be there any moment. Shifting uneasily in his chair, he was left with no other option but to wait.

Gippal, for once, was absent from the meeting. Seifer was not happy with his progress on finding the lunatic mercenary, which was what brought him to the damn meeting in the first place. Swinging his leg, Seifer eyed the closed door wistfully. If only they would hurry up!

He looked up sharply from the stitching on his trench coat when the door opened. To his sheer displeasure, it was not Ansem who walked in. It was a strange looking woman dressed in dark shades and carrying a staff. When two others followed the strange woman, Seifer began sweating even more profusely. Had he known he would be outnumbered, he would have brought more men with him. Another, a man with a staff, joined the witch lady across the table from Seifer, followed by a man with a hook on his hand.

"Where's Ansem?" Seifer blurted, tossed into infinite unease by the three intimidating figures. The witch lady gave him a cool gaze, her rounded eyes flicking over his form disdainfully.

"He is not in attendance," she said, her voice condescending. Seifer gritted his teeth, fisting his hand in his lap under the table. He hated being talked to like a moron. He was leader of a fucking Alliance!

"I see that," he bit out angrily, glaring at the witch. "Why ain't he?"

"Why don't you shut your trap for a few moments," the man with the hook on his arm said calmly. He lifted the metal piece for further investigation in the light, and Seifer immediately shut up, perceiving the indirect threat quite clearly.

"Now, now, Hook, do not be so harsh," the man with the staff said softly, giving Hook a meaningful look. "Tell me, Seifer, is it? Yes, as I was saying, you are in contract with Ansem of catching and keeping lively the mercenary?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow. Seifer nodded mutely, not sure where this was going.

"Hmm, as I thought, Jafar," the witch said, her voice an ever-constant mechanical drone. She gave Jafar a sideways glance. "Boy, you would do wise to break the contract. The mercenary is in league with Ansem," the witch said bluntly.

Seifer's eyes widened as a jolt of shock went through him. He had been double-sided by that bastard, Ansem! "What the fuck are you talking about? You mean to tell me that this...fucker was two-timin' me the whole way?" he demanded, standing up and shoving his chair back. He slammed his fist on the table, his face contorting in anger as he stared at the witch. He had been shelling out extra money for more Negotiators to find the bastard, and paying Ansem interest all the while!

Her voice and face remained blank as she gave him a curt nod. "Yes." After turning to Jafar, she nodded once again.

"You see," Jafar continued, his voice soft and lulling, "It seems that Ansem has been working behind the backs of many. We have come in his stead, without his knowledge, of course, to offer you a deal of our own," Jafar added, his voice silky as he fingered his staff with a fond look.

Seifer was drawn to the snake-like figures on the head of the staff, and he found the rest of the world fading away as he was entranced by the glowing eyes. What were these people saying? In fact, he couldn't even remember why he was here. And while he was at it, where _was_ he?

"You will sever your contract with Ansem."

Who was that? Seifer shrugged. Whatever they wanted. "I'll sever the contract."

"You will let it be known that you have hired the mercenary, Sephiroth, to kill the leaders of both Underground and Gijitsu."

Why would Seifer do that? Who _were_ the leaders of those things? And what were they? With another careless shrug, he nodded his head. Why not? "I will hire the mercenary to kill the leaders." As long as he could stare at the pretty snake longer...

"You will not speak of this mission or meeting to anyone."

Nope, he sure didn't plan on doing that. "I won't speak of the mission or meeting to anyone."

With a snap, he shook his head, some of his focus coming back. Sever his contract with Ansem. He had one? Apparently, if he had to sever it. Absently, he stood from his chair, completely forgetting the three seated across him. He had to sever that contract and then hire the mercenary. To kill...who were they again? Oh! The leaders of Underground and Gijitsu. Yep, those two. Or however many there were. With a sigh, he pushed the door open, stepping out into the lobby. He had a bunch of stuff to do.

Maleficent narrowed her eyes on Seifer's back as he nearly stumbled out of the office. He would not be broken easily, without much interference. And Jafar would know immediately and put a stop to it. Standing from her position next to said man, she nodded her head in approval.

"Impressive, Jafar. It is encouraging to see at least one being is taking action in this pitiful Alliance," she said, giving a nod to Hook as well. Jafar stroked his dark beard with a pleased look, settling back intohis chair and cradling his staff.

"I will inform the mercenary of our plan." With that, she was out the door as well, the cloak tied around her throat swishing through the door behind her.

Jafar emitted a pleased chuckle, turning to Hook. "It seems that employing the witch in our efforts payed off, hasn't it, Hook?"

Hook nodded his head, returning a lopsided smile. "Indeed it has, Jafar, my boy. Now, I'll be down below, working," Hook added, wagging his brows before disappearing as well.

* * *

"You know, Tidus, we really shouldn't be doing this. What if something happens? Aren't the people at war in these Sectors?" Yuna asked tentatively, feigning fear as she glanced about suspiciously.

Tidus shook his head, giving her a huge grin. "Nah, we hired some people to take care of that stuff. So Northside is good over here," he added, grabbing her hand and helping her over the fence. They were sneaking into the back of one of the antique stores in Sector One.

"What are we getting anyway?" Yuna asked, changing the subject as to not seem to interested. She mentally stored the hired information, her brain clicking instantly with possible scenarios.

"I just wanna show you something!" Tidus said, his voice gaining back some of it's excitement as they neared a large stand. He reached up on the top shelf and gingerly lifted something circular down, holding it out to Yuna.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at what he had displayed in front of her. She had heard of it somewhere in her schooling, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it at the moment.

"Oh, wow," she breathed, reaching out to touch it. It was shiny and polished on the surface, though she could see something frozen inside reflected on the outside. Idly, she wondered what the name of it was, running her finger over the smooth finishing on it.

"It's called Materia," Tidus informed her, as if reading her mind. She nodded silently. The name definitely sounded familiar. Tidus suddenly shoved it in her hands. "Go on, keep it! You seem to like it!" he explained, noticing the incredulous look on her face.

Yuna clenched her jaw, the overwhelming feeling of guilt coming back strongly as she closed her hands over the Materia. She despised this kind of work with all her being, but it was needed, to ensure the safety of the city.

"Thank you, Tidus," she said softly, reaching forward and giving him a quick hug. "It's beautiful," she added, planting a kiss on his cheek.

He smiled, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he nodded. Leading her quietly back out the store, he helped her back over the fence, careful to keep her suspended in the air until her feet were planted firmly on the ground.

"Where do you think the people at the store got it?" Yuna asked, reaching for his hand as they strolled back down the streets of Sector One. Due to the Northside rule in these parts, there was no curfew, therefore it wouldn't be suspicious for a young couple to be walking down the streets so late at night.

"Eh, I dunno. Heard there used to be a lot of it around the caves back when the old Midgar was up," Tidus said carelessly, shrugging his broad shoulders and scratching his blond head. Yuna nodded, storing the information once again. "I suppose I should take you home, right? It is getting late," Tidus added, glancing up at the clock centered on one of the high towers. Yuna nodded, gripping his hand more tightly as he pulled her along.

She adored Tidus, but she knew her work had to come first, no matter what the personal business was. Besides, he had his ties to Northside already, and she hers to Gijitsu. There was little they could do to change that. Sighing, she followed him closely, smiling when he helped her step down from the curb. It was just too bad she wasn't going home. As much as she longed to keep the precious Materia, it needed to be turned in to Haschel.

* * *

Strife fingered the Mako slowly. His messanger, Zidane, had managed to secure a piece with his tail, something that generally surprised him. He had not known that Mako could even be touched by a human who wasn't infused without harm. Then again, that was probably why the boy had used his tail.

His brain couldn't even begin to comprehend the many situations the Mako brought. Sephiroth was likely involved. Either that, or there was a very strange coincidence. And it also meant that someone, besides himself, knew of the frozen Mako ponds in the cave. Judging from the many ponds being harvested, it was more than one person as well, according to Zidane's information.

Strife sighed, not sure how much more of this he could take. It seemed as if history were repeating itself, just not with the same circumstances. Fingering the Mako once again, he marveled at the feel against his bare fingers. He was immune to such forces as Mako, due to the fact that he was imbued with more of it than any mortal creature alive.

Setting the Mako down, he pondered what to do. To inform Haschel was a given. They had been working together, sort of, the past week or so, and it was only right that he do so. Sighing, he figured he might as well start somewhere, and he lifted his hand to reach for the phone.

As the loud ringing startled him greatly, he nearly flopped over backward in his chair as he reached on his back for the absent Buster Sword. It was initial habit, though he hadn't carried the sword for years, and he found himself staring in shock, his heart beating rapidly, at the ringing phone. As it was only Haschel and Tifa that had the personal number, he picked it up warily.

"Strife."

After a few seconds of listening, Strife sighed heavily when Haschel's voice came into the ear piece.

"Afraid I've got some bad news, Strife, old pal," Haschel said gravely. Strife cocked an eyebrow. Either it was another of Haschel and Cid's fashion disaster ploys, or there really was bad news.

"Shoot," Strife said, leaning back in his chair.

"We're being hunted."

Strife took this in very slowly. Hunted? As there was only one mercenary with the abilities to hunt Alliance leaders,and Strife had a very accurate guess as to who the hunter was. "Sephiroth, huh?" he said dully, rubbing his forehead. Just what he needed. Another crazed man, wait... This was the same lunatic. The _same_ crazed guy coming after him, only in different places.

"Pretty sure of it," Haschel replied nonchalantly, as if he received death threats every day. Which, Strife realized, he probably did. His own death threats were sent to Tifa instead, who found the most amusing ones to read at the weekly Alliance meeting.

"Then I guess I might as well tell you my little secret," Strife said heavily, launching into an explanation of the Mako his messanger had discovered. "Which means, according to your new info, that Sephiroth is behind it. Either that, or someone is a really smart little bastard," he added, immediately dismissing the idea. Nope, it was Sephiroth.

"Troubling, troubling," Haschel murmured. He paused for a moment, as if hesitating. "Could this have anything ot do with the book?" he asked.

"No doubt it does. Which means Sephiroth will want to come after it. I don't know how they found out about the pools. I discovered them myself not too long ago. About a month, in fact. It's dangerous stuff," Strife added darkly, his mind going back to the past.

"Yes, I know, I know," Haschel readily agreed. "I'll inform Cid, then. Take it easy, Strife. And beef up on security. Leonheart said your gaurds are pathetic," he added, hanging up before Strife had a chance to retort. It wasn't his fault if Kongol had to visit his homeland.

Tossing the phone back on it's cradle, he picked it up again, dialing Tifa's number. Action had to be taken immediately. Especially if he wanted to keep his life. Sephiroth might be nothing but a mercenary now, but Strife knew how his mind clicked. It would be no time at all before he was busting through the office.

* * *

Ah, so some of the secrets are unfolded! Oooh! Yay! I'm actually excited to write the next chapter! Whoot! It's too bad Tadpole is sick, though, and won't be able to edit for a few days. I should have two or three chapters done by then, though, so be patient, please! Review! 


	8. Chapter Seven

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Chapter Seven-Rising Tension_**

Frog seated himself comfortably across from Chrono, making eye contact as he straightened himself awkwardly in the chair. Chrono nodded solemnly in return, reaching over to the table on his right and picking up a sheet of paper.

"Customary privacy issue,"Chrono said, offering the paper and a pen to Frog. Frog jotted down a signature, placing the pen down sharply before eyeing his human host.

"I assume you know why I'm here?" Frog asked quietly, his voice coming out in a deep croak. Chrono remained silent, simply nodding his head once again. Frog waited patiently. It seemed that this man would be a bigger obstacle than Haschel had predicted.

"You're here," Chrono started softly, "Because Haschel is concerned over the Mako."

Frog waited to see if the Advisor would say more. When it became apparent that the man was insistent on silence, he took up the end of the conversation.

"Then what are Underground's plans? I know Strife has had as much luck as ourselves in hunting the mercenary," Frog stated, nodding his head when Chrono raised an eyebrow. "So, it seems there is more to it than Strife has let on?" he persisted, leaning forward slightly.

Chrono finally sighed, though in aggravation or defeat Frog didn't know. It was a while before he spoke. "Strife has informed me that the Mako is taken care of. As Haschel was informed, our messanger discovered the Mako pools. It is known that only Underground and Gijitsu know of this, excluding the original source," Chrono said, almost mechanically.

Frog narrowed his eyes. It was all information that he already knew. "Yes, I am informed of these matters. However, I have come to inquire as to why Strife has been unable to track the mercenary down. Are they not on personal terms?" Frog asked, his tone hardening as he glared at Chrono.

"I know not whether Strife and the mercenary collaborate. It is not likely they are on _good_ terms, however, considering the immense lack of the man we have," Chrono added, though his tone held no sarcasm. Frog clenched his jaw in annoyance.

"Obvious," Frog bit out, ignoring the Advisor for the moment. He mulled over the information in his head, seeking a way to draw more out from the insufferable man sitting across from him. "Every Alliance, excluding Devil's, is currently hunting the mercenary. Is it fact that Devil's is in league with the mercenary? And why is the mercenary being hunted in the first place?" Frog demanded, his tone becoming aggressive.

Chrono's upper lip curled into a sneer, his first blatant display of emotion throughout the whole meeting. "Strife informed me that should it come down to this, you were to be dismissed. He has also informed me to tell you that his reasons are for him, and him alone, to know. Good day, sir," Chrono finished snidely, rising from his chair and swinging the door open.

Frog left silently, inwardly seething at the complete failure the meeting had turned into. He was a strategist, and he worked with what he was given. However, Chrono had not supplied any information he didn't already know.

Shaking his head in frustration, he waited impatiently for the elevator. Haschel was going to be angry when he returned empty-handed.

* * *

"Oh, come on, Squall! It won't kill you to go in public." 

Leonheart resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Rinoa, I'm not going in there," he stated firmly, thinning his lips in resolve when she narrowed her eyes and moved toward him.

"Why not?" she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and blowing a lock of black hair out of her eyes. She waited patiently as Leonheart gave a dramatic sigh, gesturing at the resturant.

"People know me in there. It's a Gijitsu haunt. They'll recognize me," he said, pursing his lips further when she stalked away from him, a heated look on her face. "Where are you going?" he called, jogging to catch up with her.

"You're being mean! You won't even go in a stupid resturant with me!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. He scoffed, throwing the said place a dirty look.

"It's just a resturant! We can go get take-out," he offered, leaning against the light pole.

Her eyes became slits as she glowered at him. "Squall Leonheart, you are horrible! You want to take me to a _fast-food_ place?" she demanded, stomping her foot.

He blinked in confusion. "What's wrong with take-out?" he asked innocently.

"Nothing," she snapped, turning on her heel and starting away again. He sighed, scowling at the floor as he scuffed his shoe in irritation. Damn women and their weird emotions. He saw nothing wrong with take-out food. In fact, he rather preffered it over resturant meals anyways.

"Get away from me!"

He looked up sharply at the distressed tone in Rinoa's voice, gaping as he lunged forward at a heavy sprint. A girl with silver hair currently had Rinoa by the arm, a knife in her hand.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he bellowed, grabbing the girl's wrist and giving it a savage twist. The knife clattered to the floor, and he kicked it out of her reach. After grabbing Rinoa and shoving her safely behind him, he looked around to see if the silver-haired girl had accomplices. After finding nobody else in the streets, he turned to face her.

"Who the fuck are you?" he snarled, narrowing his eyes when she glanced wildly at the knife. She remained silent, simply standing there, breathing as heavily as Leonheart himself. "Who are you?" he repeated, raising his voice.

"I ain't nobody, jackass! Now leave me alone!" she retorted, turning on her heel and taking off. Leonheart gave chase immediately, tackling her to the ground and pinning her wrists behind her back, shoving his knee in her spine.

"Answer me, damnit," he demanded, yanking painfully on her arms. She whimpered in pain, going limp against his hold.

"My name's Meru! I was told to go after any other Alliances!" she cried, hollering in more pain when Leonheart twisted harder on her arms. "I swear!" she added, struggling against his grasp.

He let her up with an indignant scoff, shoving her away from himself and Rinoa. "Get out of here, Meru. And tell your boss to watch out," he added, glowering at her as she nodded her head.

When she was well out of sight, Leonheart turned to Rinoa, who was shaking terribly. "What was that?" she asked, glancing at Meru's vanishing back.

Leonheart shook his head. "I don't know. I guess it's worse than I thought. Come on, let's get back home," he added, taking her by the arm.

* * *

"He is not being truthful." 

Sephiroth slanted his eyes at the soft-voiced man. "I know this."

"Yet you do nothing," the man added, raising an eyebrow slightly. He folded his hands into his sleeves, leaning back to better observe Sephiroth from under the black hood encasing his head.

"He serves his purposes," Sephiroth replied. The quiet man inclined his head.

"Perhaps. Yet he poses a greater threat than you believe," he added, turning slowly and starting back down the trail from Mythril Cave. Sephiroth stared after him for a moment.

"How so?" he finally asked, calling the man back. The man stopped, though he did not turn.

"Do not forget who Kadaj is, Sephiroth," the man said softly, continuing back down the trail. Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, though he did not answer.

Turning to stare at the Mako ponds, now steadily filling the containers positioned tocatch the excess dripping, he fought the urge to sigh. Perhaps Kadaj was more of a threat than he had assumed.

* * *

Yuffie paused outside the door to Seifer's office, putting her ear to the door when she heard the voice again. She was absolutely sure she had not permitted anyone entrance today, due to Seifer's orders, and she had no idea who he had personally let in. 

"Kill...Kill Gijitsu and Underground Alliance leaders?"

She drew back slightly, confused at Seifer's own voice. Was he talking to himself?

"But, why?" Seifer asked, causing Yuffie to lean in further so she could hear his loud muttering. "Who are the leaders? Why can't I remember?" he asked, his voice becoming aggressive as he banged something around.

Yuffie blinked in confusion, not sure if her boss was still sane or not. She had heard that there was extra stress, especially out in the streets, due to the ties Northside now had with Devil's. Seifer's incoherent mumbling brought her ear closer to the door.

"Have to kill leaders... Then, then..."

"What are you doing?"

She jumped back, startled, the papers in her hand dropping to the floor and scattering about as she turned to face the intruder. She mentally cursed herself when she recognized Gippal's bush of blonde hair.

"Nothing," she lied quickly, hurriedly bending down to pick up the papers. To her annoyance, Gippal stomped on her foot, though not hard, and forced her to look up. "Really, I was just checking on him. He said no visitors and I heard a voice," she added, yanking her hand from under his foot.

"Well, who's in there?" Gippal asked, throwing a suspicious look at the door. Seifer would reject his own mother if he said no visitors.

"Nobody. He was talking to himself," she added quickly, standing up and cradling the papers against her check. "I have to sort these, excuse me," she added, hurrying around him and out the hall door.

Gippal remained silent. He narrowed his eyes at the door, creeping forward slowly and placing his ear to it.

"Don't speak of mission or contract, kill Alliance leaders, don't speak, don't speak..."

He frowned, drawing back slowly. Maybe the stress was getting to Seifer. He tried the doorknob, only to find it locked, and from the sound of it, bolted shut. Rattling the door, he called to Seifer.

"It's me, Gip! Let me in, Seifer," he said, pounding on the door.

To his surprise, Seifer's muttering only grew louder, as if he were raising his own voice to be heard over the pounding. Pulling his hand back, he stared at the door for a long moment before turning and leaving the office. Maybe Seifer would be better tomorrow.

* * *

He couldn't remember where he was. 

The items on the desk he was sitting at were familiar, but he couldn't remember why. Everytime he tried to think, the harsh voice came back into his head, giving him his orders.

"You will sever your contract with Ansem."

"But I already did that!" Seifer protested, groaning in pain as his head throbbed painfully. He had broken the contract days ago!

"Good, good. You will let it be known that you have hired the mercenary, Sephiroth, to kill the leaders of both Underground and Gijitsu."

"But I hired him!" Seifer exclaimed, grasping his head roughly and shaking it. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? He was doing everything they asked!

"How do you know this? The leaders are not dead."

"I...I just do!" he insisted, chewing harshly on his lip when the throbbing increased.

"Very well."

The voice disappated and the throbbing soon followed, leaving Seifer breathing heavily at his desk, his head in his hands as his elbows rested against the polished wood.

"Make sure the mercenary kills them," he muttered to himself, struggling to get out of his seat. With a tired sigh, his knees gave out, and he fell to the floor with a thud.

* * *

With a final, blinding flash from the eyes of the snake, the staff slithered back into place, becoming still and motionless as Jafar stroked it fondly. 

Turning to Maleficent and Hook, he nodded his head, a smile forming on his lips. "It is going well. He put up much more resistance than anticipated, but it is taken care of. Strife, the Thundergod, and Haschel should be well out of our way in a few days," he added softly, throwing the Staff of Snakes one last, loving look.

Maleficent nodded her head, golden eyes coming to rest upon Hook. "I daresay the recent cause of violence should be a product of your work?" she asked quietly. Hook beamed proudly at his hand, rubbing the metal claw with a predatory grin.

"All part of a day's work," he said modestly, shining the hook on his coat. Maleficent nodded once again, cradling her own staff against her robes.

"Do keep with the work, you two. I will check up on your progress in two days," she said, swiftly turning and exiting the room. Jafar chuckled merrily, standing and stomping his staff against the floor.

"It won't be long, now," Hook muttered, gazing at his claw.

Jafar joined him by the door, taking his leave as well. "Yes, soon the whole of Midgar will belong to us, Hook. Soon," he added, grinning to himself as he took a seperate path.

The two of them were very easy to manipulate. He had no doubts that Maleficent would turn on them the first chance she got to gain the advantage in power, and Hook would do anything for violence or his doom of greed and power. However, their efforts would all go to waste.

Soon, his Staff of Snakes would completely overpower Seifer's own will, and he would have controlof Northside. With their brute strength and quick violence, it would be simple to overtake the others as well.

* * *

Well, Tadpole is still sick. In fact, she's in the hospital, so if there are any errors, point it out. Thanks to the review from last chapter. I did go back and edit it! And, this is the only chapter I can submit for a few days, because I want to _try_ to edit the other three, without Tadpole. Best of wishes, honey! Love ya, get better soon if you read this! 


	9. Chapter Eight

**Well, Tadpole is slightly better, but I still edited this one by my lonesome, so bear with me. Gyah, I do miss her, though. We aren't related, but I live with her and her mom, so we're kinda, no, REALLY, close... Anyways, she should be out of the hospital sometime soon, I hope. The doctors still don't know if she has meningitus or some type of disease... Best of wishes, Mimi!**

_

* * *

_

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Chapter Eight-Witnesses And Spies_**

"Your impertinence did not go undetected, Kadaj," Sephiroth said quietly.

Kadaj visibly paled, his skin losing some of it's pallor as he glanced from Sephiroth, to the other man, and then back to Sephiroth. He inwardly debated what to do. Sephiroth and the other man knew he was lying about the Mako, and it would do no good to feign innocence. But, if Sephiroth knew he had intentionally kept it from them...

He shuddered at the thought and lifted his eyes to those of Sephiroth's. "My apologies, Sephiroth. It will not happen again," he said meekly, lowering his head. Sephiroth observed him silently.

"What shall we do?" Sephiroth asked, turning to the other man. As was usual, he had his hood pulled low over his eyes.

"I believe Kadaj should repent," the man said softly. Kadaj looked up, shocked. No death wish, no curse? He narrowed his eyes. Who the hell was the man, anyway? The whole time he, Sephiroth, and the man had been in business, a hood had covered his face, though Kadaj had caught a glimpse of silver hair once.

Silver hair... Why hadn't he noticed before?

"Kuja?" he blurted, his eyes going wide again.

The man emitted a soft chuckle, lifting long, elegant fingers to lower his hood. Sephiroth merely scoffed, throwing Kadaj an uninterested look.

"His identity does not matter," Sephiroth said flippantly, returning his attention to the matter at hand. "What does matter is how you will repent," he added meaningfully. Kadaj nodded sharply, his mind reeling with an acceptable idea.

"There was word that a discovery was made by one of Haschel's associates. I will bring it to you," Kadaj said, controlling his trembling by folding his arms in the sleeves of his robes. The look in Sephiroth's eyes was one of pure malice, and it caused shivers to run down his spine.

"Very well," Sephiroth said evenly, nodding his head in a dismissive fashion before turning to Kuja. "Tell me, Kuja, has the Alliance you are aligned with split yet?"

Kuja shook his head, staring impassively at Sephiroth. "I have pushed the members as much as possible without causing suspicion. The rift will form soon, if it hasn't already," Kuja responded solemnly, cutting his gaze to Kadaj. "Tell me, why was there Mako missing from the pond?" he asked suddenly, his tone hardening slightly.

Kadaj quirked an eyebrow. "There was no Mako missing," he protested, not liking the light that returned to Sephiroth's eyes.

"Then you know not who took it? Did any follow you?" Sephiroth asked. Kadaj nearly sighed in relief, something that did not go unnoticed by Sephiroth. "Don't be a fool," he sneered. "You cannot transport Mako."

Kadaj kept his mouth shut. "Isn't Strife the only one who can touch it?" he asked, looking to Kuja.

"Perhaps it was acquired by another means," Kuja muttered, turning to stare out at the streets. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "We are being watched, Sephiroth," he said quietly, not bothering to look at the mentioned person.

Sephiroth nodded his head absently. "Yes, the three have been there for quite some time. I detect no curiosity from them, however," he said dismissively. He turned back to Kadaj. "Find who took the Mako, Kadaj," he ordered briskly, turning on his heel, and, after nodding to Kuja, disappeared into the evening foot traffic.

"You would do well to mind his orders," Kuja said somberly, finally turning to look at Kadaj. "Sephiroth is a dangerous man," he added cryptically, stepping into the foot traffic as well.

Kadaj stared after him with a marked frown. If he didn't find that Mako or the item Haschel discovered, he knew his life would be short-lived.

* * *

"Yo, Irvine, did you see that?" Zell asked loudly, turning his attention from the hotdog in his hand. 

Irvine nodded his head, momentarily zoning out on the rambling woman at his side for a moment. "Who do you think they are?" he asked, patting the girl soothingly on the shoulder when she started to tear up about something.

"Irvy, don't you listen to me anymore?" she asked, interrupting Zell's answer. Irvine nodded immediately, flashing her a guilty look.

"I'm sorry, Selphie, honey, what were you saying?" he asked, flashing her a charming smile. Her lips turned upward and she started to speed-talk about the upcoming party in her dorm-room. "Of course I'll be there," he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

She was visibly pleased and turned her attention to some stray dog instead. "What was it, Zell?" Irvine asked, lowering his voice so Selphie would not hear.

"I saw silver hair. Ain't the mercenary Seifer is after got silver hair?" Zell asked, staring blatantly down the street. Irvine nodded his head.

"Yeah, but I don't think the mercenary would go out in plain sight. I heard he was a pro," Irvine said, reassuring himself and Zell at the same time. He had been told that those who missed the mercenary were severely punished.

"Yeah, must be. So, we don't mention it no anybody, right?" Zell asked, turning back to his food. After slathering the hotdog in ketchup, mustard, and a strange looking blue sauce, he took ahuge bite, wiping the blue dribbling down his chin.

"No, we don't mention it," Irvine assured him, wrapping an arm around Selphie's shoulder when she returned from petting the stray. "So, Selph, about that dorm-party..."

* * *

She was nervous. Her hands were shaking and her palms were sweaty as they gripped the item inside of her jacket pocket. She fingered the 'materia', as Tidus had called it, turning it over in her pocket as she waited. 

It was the first time she had ever been on the boss' floor. She had never even seen Haschel, now that she thought about it. Nor T.G. Cid, the other leader, but that was understandable, seeing how he mostly trained the new cadets and kept up with the weapons and phsyical aspects of the Alliance. But Haschel she had never seen.

For a moment she wondered what he would look like. He was old, that much she knew.

When the door clicked open sharply, she was brought out of her musings with a start. Haschel's two door gaurds nodded quietly before the doors swung open, admitting her to his office.

"Come in, girl," Haschel said, his voice not un-kind. Yuna took a few tentative steps forward, observing the room silently as Haschel swiveled around in his chair to face her.

He looked really, really old, with crow's feet etching their way around his eyes, and she could how bad the corners of his mouth and his cheekbones drooped with age. It startled her to know that Haschel wouldn't be leader much longer, with he and T.G.'s advancing age working against the both of them.

"I-I was given this, when-" Yuna started hesitantly, reaching hastily into her pocket to retrieve the materia.

"Yes, when you were traipsing around with the Northside boy. Lulu keeps me well informed of your situation," Haschel said cryptically, steepling his hands under his chin and waiting for her to bring the materia to him. Yuna was too terrorized to hand it to him personally, so she put it on his desk, wincing at the dramatic clang it sent echoing through the quiet office.

He slid it toward him, his eyes lowering slowly as he studied it. After a moment's silence, he looked back up at her. "Expect a promotion," he said brusquely, nodding at the door and offering hera tight smile.

Yuna nodded wordlessly. She turned on her heel and started back out the door, her hands trembling inside the pockets of her jacket.

When the doors clicked shut, Haschel lifted the materia swiftly, bringing it closer to his face for inspection. It was rounded and smooth, growing a bright, neon color. Rubbing it gently with a thumb, he mutely nodded his head, reaching for the phone.

As much as his competitive side wished to keep the materia and lord the discovery over the other Alliances, he knew that Strife needed to be informed. Strife was one of the few people in the city who knew of the amazing discovery of Mako and materia, and he would know what to do.

When Strife answered his phone, Haschel gave the materia one last, wistful look. "Strife? I think I've found something that might interest you."

"Oh really?" Strife asked, his tone immensely bored. Haschel chuckled dryly when he heard the shuffle of papers and the clatter of a pen hitting the wooden desk.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," Haschel said genially, smiling in childish glee when Strife snorted in annoyance.

"Save me the fashion tips, old man, now get to it. I'm busy," Strife said, just short of snapping at him. Haschel raised an eyebrow, the smile still on his lips.

"I've found materia," he said bluntly, enjoying the complete silence that followed. He waited patiently for a full minute before he gave the phone a quizzical look, wondering if Strife had hung up on him or not.

"You're shitting me."

"I shit you not," Haschel responded pleasantly, fingering the said materia. "In fact, I'm holding it in my hands at the very moment."

Another pregnant pause. "Why are you telling me this?" Haschel chuckled once again, envisioning Strife crouched over his desk, blue eyes narrowed. "Shouldn't you be announcing an auction or something?" Strife continued.

"No," Haschel said, using the same pleasing, yet infuriating, tone. "I'm working on getting Cowlick to send it over to you."

"What the hell would you do that for?" Strife asked, his voice sounding angry.

"Calm down," Haschel said quietly, studying the materia silently for a moment. "You know more about it than myself or Cid. Therefore, it will be better off in your hands. I want you to identify it for me," he explained, tossing the materia in the air and catching it expertly.

"I don't know about this..." Strife said, suspicion creeping into his tone. Haschel stifled a sigh, setting the materia on his desk and searching about for Cowlick's number.

"As I said before, you know more of it than myself. Pride and notoriety are not the top priorities at hand," he admitted, nodding when he found the number to Cowlick's personal cell. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, I must hang up. Cowlick is generally asleep by seven, and it's nearing six," he added checking his watch.

Strife didn't bother to say goodbye before Haschel heard the hum of a dial tone. Setting the phone down, he picked it up again, punching in his messanger's personal number.

"Yeah, boss?" Wakka answered, picking the phone up exactly at the end of the second ring. It was a rather obsessive habit he had formed when speaking to Haschel. Not too eager, yet not too reluctant, to talk.

"I need something delivered. Immediately," Haschel added, raising an eyebrow when he heard the cries of an infant and the muttering of Lulu.

"I'll be there in five," Wakka replied, hanging the phone up.

Haschel sighed as he set the phone on the cradle once again. Just Cid left to tell...

* * *

Strife could feel the adrenaline pump through his body when Tifa announced that the materia would be delivered to his office any moment. He hadn't seen a trace of the magical material since Sephiroth's demise years ago, and it gave him a strange sort of hope to know it still existed.

Sure, there were still Mako pools, but materia was an entirely different matter. Mako had no perimeter of accumulated power, it was simply raw and fresh. Materia, however... Crafting it... His mind traveled absently to the book, and he fought the urge to open the drawer and turn through the pages once again.

He looked up whenBarret lumbered in the door, not bothering to knock as he tossed the package at Strife. "Spike, that ain't what I think it is," Barret said, narrowing his eyes dangerously when Strife eagerly tore the package open.

He slowly, gingerly, lifted the materia, holding gently in his hands as if it would break. He turned to Barret, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Just imagine, Barret," he said softly. "To know that it still exists... That it is still _possible_," Strife added, almost dreamily. Barret caught his breath in his throat, sending the gasp back down before it could erupt from his mouth.

He moved forward quickly, snatching the materia out of Strife's hands. "Fuck are you rambling about? You got something wrong with your head again?" he demanded, holding the materia out of reach when Strife reached for it instinctively.

"Give me the materia, Barret," Strife said coldly, hands curling into fists as his eyes narrowed to slits. Barret stood his ground, holding it even further away for good measure.

"I'll give it back when I'm damn good and ready," he retorted, eyeing Strife angrily. "Listen here, you crazy fuck. You may got this Alliance under control, but I ain't gonna let you sit here and fuck up the peace we worked for. I know 'bout them damn Mako pools, too. You're losin' it, Spike, you're losin' it," he added, slamming the materia down on his desk and stomping out.

Strife shook his head roughly, his breath coming in pants as he stared, almost fearfully, at the materia. What the hell had he just said?

Reaching forward with trembling hands, he picked the materia up, cradling it in his palm before shoving it wearily into his desk drawer. He would identify it later for Haschel.

Resting his head in his hands, he took a deep, shaky breath. What the hell was happening to him?

* * *

Whew, I hate to say this, but I am lucky. I had a horrible plothole that I just realized, but this fixed it all up. Thanks to the person, who wishes to remain anonymous, who pointed this out in an e-mail! It's sad when the author can't even realize it, and her beta as well, lol... Thank you so much for three hundred hits to the story! I have no idea if that's good or not, but what the hell! XD! And Mimi, er...Tadpole, is getting out tomorrow, so yay! Read and review!


	10. Chapter Nine

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Chapter Nine-A Thief And One Who Squeals_**

Kadaj glanced fearfully over his shoulder, shifting the bag he carried to a more comfortable position as he crossed from Sector Two to Sector Three. Quickening his pace as a sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, he glanced back one more time, his eyes widening in shock and his feet stopping their forward movement abruptly.

He could have sworn he saw a flash of silver... Shaking his head, he peered around the crowd of people nervously, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

His only choice was to flee Midgar. He knew that he wouldn't make it far, but at least it was worth a try. Sephiroth would not rest until he was dead, nor would Kuja, now that they knew of his failure.

Northside had received a tip from some inside informant that Strife had the discovery, a piece of materia, currently in his posession. It had spoiled one of the options Kadaj had needed for survival.

Unfortunately, his other chance at life had also been taken. He had found out who had taken the Mako, but not before Kuja. Sephiroth had informed him yesterday that he had twenty four hours to retrieve the materia. Kadaj shuddered at the thought of Sephiroth's eyes, vivid green, slightly glowing...

"Going somewhere?"

He lifted his head in utter terror, he moved back, the bagslipping from his grasp and falling to the floor. Papers fluttered around, landing softly on the floor.

"I-I was just-"

"Spare me," Sephiroth said, narrowing his eyes as he lifted a piece of paper and quickly scanned it. A grim smile formed on his lips. Kadaj bit his lips. The papers contained the current Mako status, which had increased over double from the last review."It seemed Kuja was not wrong," Sephiroth murmured, his voice unusually soft. He threw his head back and laughed, the sound coming out hollow and dry.

"I was going to tell you," Kadaj stuttered quickly, moving back further as Sephiroth advanced upon him. When long, tapered fingers bit into the skin on his neck, his brain went fuzzy, and all the worries that had plagued him not just yesterday flew out the window.

He was going to die. The small voice whispered it mockingly in his head, the laughter echoing in his brain as he contemplated how Sephiroth was going to kill him. Knowing the conniving bastard, it would probably be slow and painful. Kadaj felt a small jolt of annoyance. It seemed that nothing went his way. Couldn't they at least lighten it up on his death?

"Tell me, Kadaj, did you honestly believe I would not find you?" Sephiroth asked, releasing some tension on his throat. Kadaj refused to answer. Instead, he blew the silver hair out of his face, his upper lip curling into a sneer.

"You're going to die, Sephiroth. That Strife isn't going to leave the job unfinished this time," he spat, his voice angry and agressive. Maybe he could get Sephiroth angry enough to kill him quickly. Kadaj mentally shrugged. It was better than nothing.

"Perhaps," Sephiroth agreed readily, squeezing tighter. Kadaj's vision blurred and he struggled hard to keep Sephiroth from splitting into three seperate people. "However, you will not be here to see it. My work is nearly complete," Sephiroth added, leaning in closer as he lifted Kadaj's nearly limp form off the ground.

The constricting squeeze on his throat tightened, and Kadaj fought the urge to gag. It would only give Sephiroth more pleasure to know he was in terrible pain.

"You see," Sephiroth continued, his voice now nothing but a whisper in Kadaj's ear, "Soon, the world will know of my dominance, should I be here to witness it or not," he finished, clenching harder around Kadaj's wind tunnel.

As the last of his breath depleted from his lungs, Kadaj's brain vaguely registered the idea of fighting. It might buy him a few more precious moments of life. He tried half-heartedly to swing his leg, but the bottom portion of his body was already numb and cold, and he simply gave up.

At least he had tried.

* * *

Blank checked both sides of the streets before he started forward. Keeping up at a brisk pace, he couldn't help but sigh in relief when he made it safely across the street. Midgar drivers were terribly dangerous on the road. 

Keeping his hands securely in his pockets, he strolled liesurely down the sidewalk. Rule number one of becoming a messanger: Never appear in a rush unless you _were_ in a rush. And he wasn't in a rush, well... not exactly.

Turning a corner, he checked his surroundings. Rule number two of becoming a messanger: Always make sure you aren't being followed. Casting a surruptios glance to his right, he slowed his pace somewhat.

Nodding grimly to himself when a blonde girl did the same, he quickened his pace. Yep, he was being followed. He did a small series of 'lose follower tactics', which started rule number three of becoming a messanger: Always lose the people who are following you with the 'lose follower tactics'.

These tactics included: turning many street corners to perform a perfect circle of the desired location. Quickening and lowering footsteps to unbalance follower. And lastly, running outright if the bastard was still on you.

Blank generally avoided the last rule, however. He despised running and many direct physical activities like it. He preffered more grounded things, like sword-fighting and fencing. Turning another corner, he sighed. The blonde had been lost.

Taking a short breather by a light post, he leaned gently against it. Though there was a strap covering his eyes, he wasn't incabable of seeing. He had perfect eyesight, just in a different manner. He would have mentally delved into an explanation to himself of just exactly _how_ he was able to see, except for one thing.

As he felt the tug on his arm and the rip of his pocket, a single thought flashed through his mind. _He had been jacked. _As soon as he blinked a few times to assure this statement, he started off after the blonde, cursing himself for stopping.

He could have been a few minutes closer to his destination by now, but instead, he was here, doing the one thing he hated most in life except for mandatory breathing- he was _running_. Grumbling out an impressive string of curse words, he followed the blonde closely, legs and arms pumping viciously as he urged his out-of-shape body to keep up with the youth.

He stared in horror, coming to a direct halt and nearly toppling forward, when the girl hopped lithely over a fence and then ran into Northside territory, leaving him with a last flash of blonde hair. If he pursued her, he would be shot or stabbed and left in a back alley, a death thoroughly unpleasing and not at all appealing. Yet again, if he _didn't_ pursue her, either his boss would kill him, or the person he was delivering to would do it.

Turning slowly, numb with exhaustion and mental pain, he started back toward Underground headquarters. Strife _and_ Haschel were going to be pissed. He had been delivering the materia and a note to Haschel, and he had been _jacked_.

"Stupid blonde," he muttered, kicking angrily at a soda can. He might as well kiss that raise and promotion goodbye.

* * *

Rikku felt immensely pleased with herself. It was not everyday that you jacked one of the best messangers in the business. She tossed the materia up in the air, catching on it's way back down before stuffing it back into her pocket. 

Seifer would be sure glad about this! And that would garuntee her promotion and raise, something she had been looking forward to for a long time. She giggled to herself, causing the desk attendant at Northside headquarters to cast her a dubious look.

"Seifer will see you now," the woman said, nodding at the elevators. Rikku pressed the button for the top floor, feeling important and special when she stepped into the plush hallways of embroidered silk and suede.

Knocking on the door to her boss' office, she jumped back in shock when the door flung open instantly. The materia was snatched from her hand and the door slammed shut almost as quickly as it had opened, leaving her standing, alone, right in front of it, a dazed expression on her face.

"Hey!" she cried indignantly, snapping back to attention andpounding on the door. No 'Congratulations, Rikku!', or promotion? And where was her raise? "Where's my raise?" she whined to herself, sliding against the door to the floor.

"I'm _so_ under-appreciated," she moped, standing up andtrudging back toward the elevator. At least she had the self satisfaction of knowing what she had done. She snorted in disbelief at her own self. What a prat she was becoming.

* * *

Ultimecia shivered in joy as she approached Ansem's doors. It had been sheer luck that had caused her to take her bathroom break early, thus landing her some of the most important information ever. 

It seemed that the Alliance was not as united as the leader thought. Rubbing her hands together in pure greed, she gave the door to Ansem's room a hungry look, practically pounding on it in her haste to knock.

"Come in," her boss called irritably, his voice muffled by the thick wood. Unlike other Alliances, Devil's had less break-ins, and could afford to keep practical wooden devices.

"Ansem," she greeted pleasantly, helping herself to a chair across from him. He seemed mildly annoyed at her bubbly demeanor, and he got straight to the point.

"What. Do. You. Want?" he bit out, still clutching a thick stack of papers. Ultimecia gave him a secretive smile, leaning forward in her chair.

"I have something for you," she said, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. Ansem's golden eyes blazed at her words, but he made no move to drop the papers. "It's something I feel the leader of this so-called Alliance should know," she continued, leaning back in her chair and letting the smug smile fall back into place.

Ansem's eyes finally narrowed, and she nodded in satisfaction when the papers returned to the desk, giving her the full attention of Ansem. "What is it?" he snapped, his voice still imbued with irritation.

"Well, I was on my way to the bathroom, you know, we only get one break a day around here? You should really change that, and-"

"Get to the point," Ansem said, cutting her off. He stared coolly at her, deciding whether or not she was serious about this information of hers. Ultimecia was not known for her wit or cunning.

"Well, like I was saying," Ultimecia added, somewhat miffed at the rebutal, "I was on my bathroom break and I heard Jafar and Hook talking," she added, jumping back slightly when he nearly lunged at her from his chair, sending the papers on his desk flying. His eyes were burning and focused solely on her, sending a shiver down her spine.

"What were they talking about?" he questioned roughly, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, Jafar was saying something about keeping Seifer under control, and that there was nothing his staff couldn't do. Oh, and Hook kept blabbering about the number of people he had killed in the streets," Ultimecia said, grinning widely when Ansem nodded in approval.

"You have done well coming to me, Ultimecia. Expect just rewards," he said gravely, nodding his head and standing up to shake her hand. "You may have the rest of the day off," he offered, seating himself once again.

"How generous!" she breathed, smiling with glee at her amazing luck. And didn't 'Just rewards' sound positively wonderful? "I will," she added, breezing out the door toward the parking lot.

Ansem stared after her in distaste. The useless woman had finally proved to be worth a small fraction of what trouble she caused with her flightly feminine ways.

He narrowed his eyes at his open door. As if on cue, a door gaurd came and slammed it shut, scuttling forward quickly. Foolish woman. Just rewards, indeed. She would be killed as soon as he finished his work. He sighed, ignoring his work for an extra moment as he contemplated his current situation.

So... He scoffed at ridiculous Jafar. He was controlling Seifer with his Staff of Snakes, notoriously known for it's hypnotising effects. It was not surprising. The whole lot of the Alliance had their own power plans in mind. He was well aware of that.

But for two of the best to be so careless with information such as that... He studied the papers now laying about his floor with a slight unease. Perhaps there was more to this than he had anticipated. His rise to power had not come as he planned.

Indeed, it had not come at all. He had planned to kill the sack, take power, rid of the Alliance as soon as he controlled more than half of the city, and then dominate the rest. Eventually he would move on to other cities and such, but nothing had gone according to plan.

The book had been stolen, the mercenary had entered the picture, and the issue of the Mako and materia had arisen. Gritting his teeth, Ansem bent over to pick up the papers. No use worrying himself about it now. The most he could do was finish the paperwork.

With a sigh, he grabbed a few more forms from the ever-increasing mountain of them on the edge of his desk. Yes, nothing to do but finish the paperwork.

* * *

Yeah, so, this is chapter nine. Oh, man, I am so freaking happy Tadpole is out of the hospital! Turns out she only had a bad case of meningitis, not cancer!Whoot! Yeah, yeah, yeah! Lol, too bad she didn't edit this... Anyways, the updates should get back to normal, for the person who is constantly plagueing me with e-mails... Not that I don't love it, but...Meh! Read and review! 


	11. Chapter Ten

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Chapter Ten-A Man Going Mad And A Silent Killer_**

His head hurt so bad.

And the voice... It just wouldn't go away. He was doing everything it asked, but it wouldn't go away...

"Stop whining. You will have the materia delivered to Devil's Anthem."

Yes, whatever they wanted. As long as the throbbing in his head went away... With a wince, he lifted his head from the desk, buzzing someone and asking for a messanger.

For a moment, the voice disappeared, and he had a fleeting jolt of hope that it was gone for a while.

"You will tell the messanger to gaurd it with their life."

Seifer groaned in pain, clutching his temples fiercely and nodded his head and nobody as his door swung open. When a small girl stepped inside, he blinked, confused. Who was she.

"The messanger, you fool. The package."

Yes, the package. Mutely, he shoved the materia into the girl's hands.

"To... Devil's Anthem," he panted, ignoring the strange look the girl gave him. She nodded, and, without another word, disappeared from his office. "Hurts, so bad..." he muttered, the thought of banging his head on the desk becoming so appealing...

"That is all for now. You will pursue the Alliance leaders."

He was blissfully aware that the voice had disappeared, and the huge grin that broke out on his face showed it. The throbbing diminished and he was left relatively peaceful.

Except for the fact of not knowing where he was. He studied the pens and pieces of paper littered about the desk in front of him with avid interest. He leaned in closer, peering at a name written on the table.

"Seifer..."

Was that his name? He had a flashing image of another man, a blonde guy with a patch over one eye. Gippal... Who was Gippal? Where was he?

He clutched the desk hard, turning his knuckles white as he used his free hand to shove other papers out of the way, searching for another name, something he could recognize. Maybe if he found it before the voice came back...

"The Alliance leaders."

Kill the Alliance leaders. He nodded absently at the desk. Of course. The mercenary had already been dispatched, and he was waiting for results.

"Very good. You have done well."

Yes, he had done well. He stared wistfully at the desk he was sitting at. Why did it seem like he was forgetting something important?

* * *

Eiko trudged sullenly through the narrow path of the dark tunnel. The only lights were the occasional ones positioned on the drainage pipe, and they only made the place more spookier than it already was. 

Grimacing as she accidentally stepped in a muddy puddle, she shook her shoe off, watching as the brown water flew to the tunnel walls and made an abstract decoration. Glowering at everything in particular, she stomped forward, not caring if she splashed mud anymore.

Stupid Seifer. The man was a lunatic, if you asked her, which nobody did. She was just a child, anyways, and here she was, delivering personal packages to Devil's Anthem, the Alliane full of even more loony people than her own boss.

Reminding herself that she had joined Northside for the sheer pleasure of causing others pain, she stopped when she reached a large, mechanical door. Now what? How was she supposed to open it? She searched thoroughly fora latch or something, but found only metal. What kind of door was this, anyway?

She jumped in fright when it started to click open with a rickety sound, revealing a tall, intimidating figure. He had a funny looking staff in one of his hands, and a small, black beard that came to a curvy point at the end. Had he not been glowering at her, Eiko would have laughed at his outdated appearence.

"From Seifer," she said, coming to her senses and handing the package to him. With a nod, he snatched it from her small hands, turning on his heel as the door started to click shut. Eiko could just make out a dusty bookshelf and a large, rectangular table before the door closed completely.

Turning back around with a mulish expression, she started back out of the tunnel. She wanted extra for this. And somebody had better be paying for a new pair of shoes.

* * *

"It has come," Jafar announced, holding the package up in his hands. 

The room fell silent, only to be broken by the sound of chairs scraping against the floor when everyone took their seat. Jafar motioned to Maleficent, who stood off to the side.

"Maleficent, if you would."

She took the package, setting it on the table as she slowly slit it open. Before she reached inside to take out the materia, she looked up, observing the expressions of her fellow Alliance members.

Hook looked positively bored, his eyes instead focused on his gleaming, metal claw. Ursula was waiting patiently as ever, alternating her tentacles from one chair leg to another. Hades yawned loudly, giving Maleficent a meaningful look to get the show on the road. Kuja sat with a blank expression on his face, his eyes narrowed on the package in her hand.

Straightening her robes, she lifted the materia from the package slowly.

"I believe you all know what this is."

The seated members gasped softly, Ursula's tentacle dropping with a slick thud to the ground and Hook's claw hitting the table with a loud thunk.

"Not possible," Hades said immediately, the flames jumping to life atop his skull. Maleficent waited for him to finish. "Materia was destroyed, all of it, when that Strife man fought with the lunatic who tried to use Meteor," he continued.

Maleficent nodded curtly, rubbing the materia held in her fingers. "So it was believed. It appears, however, that it was not all destroyed. This discovery, however, also leaves us with another mystery," she added, her eyes coming to rest on Kuja. He had remained very still, his eyes glued to the materia.

"Where there is materia, there is Mako," Kuja murmured, drawing the attention of those sitting around him. "It is simply a question of where," he added softly. Maleficent nodded in agreement, setting the materia down on the table.

"As you can tell, the materia is undeveloped and fresh, which means it was crafted not too long ago. Ten years at the most," she added, surprising others with her knowledge. "We have other dealings than Ansem's silly goal to dominate the city," she added, picking the materia back up.

"Well, what should we do?" Hook asked, his voice taking on a desperate strain. "Ansem's getting suspicious as hell, and it won't be long before he confronts us about this whole thing," he added, sweeping his hands at the others seated around him.

"Yes, he has approached me with threats for such information," Kuja agreed, resting his hands in his lap.

"However, if we reveal the materia, there will be the question of it's wherabouts. Then he will also discover our control over the Seifer boy," Jafar said, stepping forward next to Maleficent, his Staff of Snakes clutched tightly in his hand.

"There's also the matter of Hook and the violence. If Ansem finds out that I've been supplying Hook with all those cadets and men to kill off, what'll happen to us?" Ursula asked, looking to Hook for backup. He stood, flashing his claw.

"I'm with Ursula. There's toomuch invested in this situation to let that bastard know," Hook added bitterly, scowling in disdain. Hades finally stood as well, offering his own words of wisdom.

"There's also the books. As far as Ansem knows, my financial department is doing well, and when he finds out we're millions in debt, it will be all of us," he piped in, twirling a whisp of smoke around his finger.

Maleficent nodded her head after a moment's thought. "Then it is agreed that we will not inform our leader of this." The others nodded. "Good. Now, where shall it be kept?" she asked, raising a sleek eyebrow. A silence followed. "I'm assuming that none of you wish for the dangers of personally keeping it? Jafar?" she asked, turning to the man.

"I will keep it," he offered abruptly, jerking his hand from under his sleeve. He forced his arm out, collecting the materia in one quick gesture and stuffing it into his robes, a strained look on his face.

"Very well. That adjourns the meeting," Maleficent added, curling her hands around her staff.

* * *

Kuja stiffly exited the tunnel, taking in a breath of clean, fresh air. He appeared cool and collected on the outside, but his mind was reeling. He needed to inform Sephiroth of this new information as soon as possible. A wry smile twisted his lips. He had no intention of ending up like Kadaj, after all. 

It also presented the problem of another besides Strife knowing of the Mako. It had been he, himself, who had located the man with the tail. He had not killed the messanger boy, due to the fact that he wished to bring the information to Sephiroth before Kadaj did.

Kadaj had proved to be a problem, and the easiest way to rid of him had beenthrough Sephiroth. It had been why Kuja had considered Kadaj repent for withholding the information on the Mako from Sephiroth and himself.

He nodded silently as he passed the gaurds near the entrance to Devil's Anthem headquarters. They knew who he was and opened the doors automatically, springing to the side to allow him entrance. Kuja mentally contemplated his situation.

It would only be a matter of months before the Mako was thawed and Sephiroth created the materia. Then the only problem would be eliminating Sephiroth himself. The man was extremely powerful, with or without a weapon, and Kuja knew he could not do it by himself.

However, should he take on another ally, there would remain the same problem of finding one with the same intentions. He also needed one weaker than himself, so that he, too, could be disposed of when his purpose was fullfilled.

He rubbed his temples painfully, stepping into the cool air conditioning of his office. Such an easy feat, yet so time consuming and frustrating at the same time.

With a sigh, he seated himself behind his desk. He was in charge of the strategitc department, along with Maleficent, in the Alliance, which left him with little paperwork. Shuffling through the meaningless list on his desk, he finally settled back in his chair.

He needed to obtain the materia. Rubbing his aching temples once again, he gritted his teeth when someone knocked on his door.

"Yes?" he called, sighing when a familiar face came into the door. The woman sauntered into the room, wearing a skimpy skirt-suit that could have been very entertaining, had she been a stripper.

"Hello, Kuja," Ultimecia said sweetly, seating herself on the edge of his desk. Kuja resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The pathetic woman had been coming onto him since the day the Alliance had formed, and it was becoming rather taxing on his patience.

"Ultimecia," he greeted quietly, waiting for her to get to the point. She shifted her position on his desk, leaning in and capturing a tendril of his hair. Kuja had a sudden thought as he casually lifted his head back, causing the hair to slip from her fingers. Perhaps the bothersome woman could be more useful than he thought. "Ultimecia," he said once again, lowering his voice to a near whisper.

A pleasant expression settled on the woman's face as she shifted her leg once again, revealing a tanned, toned thigh. "I'm here to tell you that you and I will be working together," she announced brightly.

"Oh, really?" he asked, feigning interest. She nodded her head, the pleasant grin still on her face as she rested her hand next to his arm. "Speaking of which, there is something I must inform you of," he added, standing gracefully.

"Oh?" she asked, leaning back. He nodded his head, looking toward the door.

"Would you shut the door?" he asked, strolling over to his filing cabinet, where a documentation of each of Maleficent's meetings was kept. A lustful light settled in Ultimecia's eyes as she hopped up to do so, closing it softly and turning to face him.

"You were saying?" she asked, resting her hands on his desk and leaning forward, her head cocked to the side. Kuja ignored the exposure of her cleavage, instead withdrawing the files.

"You will find a file in each of these folders," he started quietly, sitting across from her. He did not miss the disappointed lookin her eyes. "I need your help," he added, resting his hand softly on hers.

"I'm willing to offer it," she replied immediately, staring directly at him. Kuja nodded his head, smiling faintly.

"Jafar," he started, "Is currently in posession of materia. It is unhealthy that he remain so. Were you to retrieve this materia, perhaps we could... work something out?" he offered, careful to keep his tone low.

Ultimecia perked up. "Materia. Wow," she breathed softly, nodding her head at the same time. "I'll be back in a flash," she said, winking before slinking out the door.

Kuja stamped out the flood of irritation that swelled up. He would have to kill her as soon as she came back, it seemed. However, she had been a good solution to his current problem of obtaining the materia. He slowly extracted a small dagger from his drawer, concealing it in his sleeve as he stood and leaned against the desk.

He was startled when she appeared not five minutes later, reaching into her shirt to withdraw the materia. She held it out to him with a huge grin plastered on her face.

"Is this what you were looking for?" she asked, strutting toward him. When she was mere inches from his face, he captured her hand in his own, slipping the materia out of her palm into his. Silently, he slipped the dagger from his opposite sleeve.

With an air of grace, he slipped his arms around her back, his eyes lighting in eagerness as he lifted the dagger and expertly plunged it into her spine, immediately ending her life. When he lowered her limp body to the floor, he kicked her aside, using the back of her shirt to wipe the blood from his blade.

"Pity," he muttered, shaking his head with disgust. He put the dagger back in the drawer.

"Now, where to find Sephiroth?" he asked, giving the materia a satisfied look. Things had been much easier than he hoped.

* * *

"So, Tidus, I heard you were hittin' it withthat girl from the west sectors," Serge said casually, standing next to the blonde. They were both waiting for their boss to get back from his visit with the associates. They had been assigned as bodyguards.

Tidus could feel himself blushing and he shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "Nah, we just hang out," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Serge's mocking laugh told him it had been a complete failure. "Seriously," he insisted, turning his head.

Serge punched him jokingly in the shoulder. "Sure thing, Tidus, sure thing," he said, his laughter finally dying down. They remained silent for a moment.

"So, what about that girl you saved? Seifer wasn't too pleased you helped someone from a different Alliance," Tidus finally said, nudging Serge in the ribs.

"What about it?" Serge said defensively, scoffing at his friend. "I didn't even know she was from a different Alliance! And I thought the people were shooting at me!" he protested, scowling at his shoes.

Tidus was silent once again. He finally chuckled. "You sure are getting loud for someone who don't care," he said. Serge finally shoved him off the wall, shouting out obscenities as they chased each other around the courtyard.

* * *

Ah, how good it is to have Tadpole back! She edited this, so blame mistakes on her! Read and review! 


	12. Chapter Eleven

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Chapter Eleven-Chaos In Hell_**

Maleficent approached the worried Jafar with a quickened pace, something she never did. Though Jafar was resting rather comfortably against the walls of the hall, the tense poise of his body and the pale color of his taut skin told her something had gone wrong.

He turned sharply when he heard her footsteps. His knuckles were white where they clutched the staff with an iron grip. "Maleficent," he greeted, ignoring all pleasantries as he took a step forward and inclined his head. "It has been taken."

She regarded him silently as he said this. She could tell from the worried set of his jaw and the slight trembling of the hand clutching a fistful of his robes that it had not been he himself who had taken it. He was openly worried, something Jafar was not prone to do.

"What information do you have of it?" she asked quietly, seemingly unconcerned with this revelation. In truth, she had expected it to disappear the day before when he had stowed it. The members of the Alliance were too cunning and greedy to work as a group.

"Ultimecia was killed. And we have reason to believe that Ansem knows of it," Jafar replied quickly, his breath coming out raggedly. Maleficent bit back a smile of amusement. He feared that the blame would be put on himself for the materia being taken.

"Indeed." She went over the meeting from the other day. Ursula was out of the running for the theivery. She was too complacent, and she had been with Maleficent herself the entire rest of the day after the meeting. Hook was less likely. He had no possible reason to take it; it would bring him no sadistic violence to take joy from. Jafar had already been sorted. That left Hades and Kuja.

Kuja... Her eyes narrowed. "Who found Ultimecia?" she asked sharply, startling Jafar with the sudden question.

"I-I believe Kuja did. What does that have to do with anything?" he asked, his remaining hand clutching his staff as well. Maleficent did not reply.

The only question that remained in her head was why Kuja had taken it. As far as she was concerned, he had been easy enough to sway against Ansem, and, although he was quiet, he did not appear to have ulterior motives.

"No matter," she muttered, causing Jafar to raise a brow in inquiry. "Where are Kuja and Hades?" she asked placidly, turning to Jafar with bored eyes. Jafar worried his bottom lip momentarily.

"Kuja took his leave early this morning for personal business and Hades-wait! Kuja has taken it!" Jafar exclaimed, earning a few startled glances from passing employees.

"Keep your voice down, Jafar," Maleficent said, starting past him. Jafar followed her, his breath coming in heavy pants as they headed toward Hades' office.

He was sitting beside his desk when Maleficent pushed his door open slowly. He looked up, glancing from Jafar, to Maleficent, and then back.

"What brings ya here?" he asked, adjusting his robes and mockingly fixing the smoldering light atop his head. Maleficent gave him a scrutinizing glare, her eyes taking in his unconcerned demeanor. "Well?" he prompted, gesturing at them impatiently.

"Close the door, Jafar," Maleficent said, not taking her eyes off of Hades as she wrapped her hands around her staff, resting it against her person and regarding him coldly. "You know not of the news?" she asked, narrowing her eyes fractionally.

"What are you talking about? I got work to do, lady," Hades said, sighing at the paperwork mounted on his desk. It covered most of the surface and the floor.

"The materia was taken," Maleficent said. "We have ruled out all other componets besides yourself and Kuja," she said, remaining stoic as ever when Hades seemed unaffected by this new information.

"Of course it was taken. They ain't nothin' but a bunch of power hungry wolves. Toss a piece of meat in the middle and it's bound to get taken," he said, smiling faintly at his clever anology. "'Sides, if you're implying I took it, I got Hook to vouch for me. We've been in here all day and night working on this damn crisis. Ursula was in and out, too," he said, reaching for another piece of paper as he spoke.

"Perhaps it is possible that all three of you planned it?" Jafar said, his voice coming out softly from behind Maleficent.

"Or maybe you two are running together?" Hades shot back, scribbling something down with his pen. He squinted at another sheet of paper and threw them an uninterested look. "Anything else? I do got work to finish," he added, reaching across his desk and jotting something else down on apiece of paper.

Maleficent turned without another word. Jafar followed suit, leaning back to close the door before he left.

"Oh, hey!" Hades called, causing Maleficent to pause, her head turned partially. "Tell Hook he better get back here and help!" Hades bellowed. Maleficent continued her pace, leaving Jafar to close the door behind him.

* * *

"Impudent fools!" Ansem raged, slamming his fist against the table. 

Hades involuntarily jumped, a few whisps of smoke emanating from his head as he did so. "Hey,it ain't my fault! That Kuja guy beat me to it! And he got rid of Ultimecia!" he added, glowering at nothing and everything.

"If you were not so incompetent, you would have taken it from Jafar the moment he took his leave!" Ansem bellowed, flinging a sheet of paper off his desk violently. Hades scoffed, turning his burning glare to Ansem at the insult.

"If you weren't so damn incompetent, you'd be able to do all this by yourself," he snapped back, ignoring the flames that spouted from the cracks in his robes. He gripped the arms of the chair he was seated in tightly.

"Fools," Ansem repeated, turning his back and pacing quickly across the floor of his office. "We must pursue Kuja. I need that materia! If it should fall into the mercenary's hands..." Ansem shook his head, throwing Hades another angry look.

"Have you ever considered that the Sephiroth guy is in league with Kuja?" Hades asked, inspecting his nails and settling back into his chair with a bored expression. Ansem sneered from his place across the desk.

"Of course they are in league, you imbecile! Why I have such cretins employed..." he muttered to himself. Hades stood up, unable to take the insults anymore.

"Yeah, well, unlike _some people_, I have _real_ work to do," he said, striding toward the door. "I suggest you confront Maleficent about her little plans," he tossed over his shoulder, slamming the door shut.

Ansem gave the closed door a heated look, cursing his luck. Out of all the others, he had expected Maleficent to do such a thing. Kuja's actions, however, did seem to make more sense. The man was unusally quiet and soft, the perfect disguise. He gave a gutteral sound, closely resembling a growl, before swiping at his desk once more.

Walking quickly to his door, he flung it open, bellowing at nobody in particular. "Get me Maleficent. Now!"

He heard a meek reply before someone scurried past his door. Breathing heavily as he waited for the witch, he seated himself, fidgeting with his cufflinks impatiently.

"You required my presence?"

He looked up at her silky voice, his eyes narrowing. "Witch," he greeted, not kindly, "You will tell me if it is true that this fool of a man has taken my materia," he demanded, watching her impatiently.

A faint smile touched her ghostly lips. "Indeed, it seems so."

"Hmph. I have known of your lowly deeds for quite some time, Maleficent," he said, folding his hands in his lap.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that. Hades served as a good messanger," she said simply, staring at him blankly. Ansem regarded her coldly, his upper lip curling in a sneer.

"It seems you are not as foolish as I took you to be. It was not a wise decision to oppose me, Maleficent. You will not go unpunished," he said, standing swiftly. Maleficent did not flinch, nor did she move.

"While I have no wish to kill you, your presence is not required," she said quietly, her voice carrying across the room. Ansem scoffed at her percieved threat, resting his fisted hands on his desk.

"I have no intention of disposing of you," Ansem retorted tersely, glancing at his desk, which was littered with scattered papers.

"You fear the mercenary," she informed him, positioning her staff to a more comfortable spot on her shoulder. Ansem glowered at her, his golden eyes burning.

"I fear no one," he immediately responeded. Maleficent sent him a dry, hollow chuckle.

"You know as well as I do that the mercenary and Kuja have been working together for some time, now. The materia will be transported to him, and he will carry out his plans," Maleficent said evenly, curling her fingers more tightly around her staff.

"And just what do you know of his plans?" Ansem said, unable to keep the disdain out of his voice.

"Very little." Her eyes shifted to the door when a faint knock was heard. Ansem sighed impatiently.

"What do you want?" he snapped, glowering at the slip of a girl who slipped through the door. She had a file clutched in her hands, which wereshaking uncontrollably. She slipped past Maleficent, who regarded her calmly, before setting the file down on Ansem's desk.

"Urgent, sir," she said meekly, turning on her heel and nearly sprinting out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Ansem snatched the file up, ripping it open and scanning it quickly. He looked up slowly at Maleficent.

"I know of the Mako," Maleficent said, nodding silently. Ansem felt a small swell of relief, and he knew exactly why. While Maleficent was scheming and conniving, she was a worthwhile ally.

"One of the half-thawed ponds have been drained," Ansem said, giving the file a brief look. He held it out to Maleficent. She took it slowly, her brightly lit eyes narrowing to slits as she read it quickly.

"Strife or Sephiroth. Either way, we have a loss," Ansem muttered. Should it be the mercenary, there was no telling what the lunatic was going to do with it. Should it be Strife, however, Ansem could be assured that he himself would never see it, which would stall his own plans with the Mako.

"I believe it is the mercenary," Maleficent said quietly, startling Ansem from his musings. "The materia was taken sometime yesterday, of that we are sure. Kuja has had ample time today to continue his business with the mercenary," she explained stoically. Ansem nodded his head in silent agreement.

"He has been impossible to catch, by any Alliance," Maleficent added. Ansem regarded the file in her hands.

"Perhaps we should take the remaining Mako," he said suddenly. Maleficent did not comment. He stood up, feeling a need to defend his plan. "I will not be denied the rest! I have worked for weeks on securing the thawed pools! Should it fall into the mercenary's hands, my plans will be ruined!"

"I shall speak to Ursula about acquiring footmen to do so," Maleficent said, turning to leave. When she was half-way out the door, Ansem stalled her with his words.

"Consider this opposition of yours disregarded," he said calmly. She nodded curtly, accepting the unvoiced truce.

"Very well."

* * *

Kongol watched silently as the two from Gijitsu approached. They had been the second entourage sent by Haschel today, and after the fiasco with the first, Kongol was quite eager to see what amusement the second would bring.

"Hello, we have an appointment with Strife," the man said, stopping in front of him.

Kongol shook his head, shifting his large frame. "Kongol let's no one by."

"But, we have to see Strife," the girl said, clutching the man's arm tightly. Kongol shook his head once again.

"Kongol let's no one by today," he repeated. "Master Strife wishes silence."

"What's wrong, Kongol?"

Tifa approached him wearily, the dark rings under her eyes showing more than usual. She stopped next to the two from Gijitsu, offering them a neutral smile.

"Can I help you?" she asked, stepping back when the man stepped toward her. Instinctively, Kongol reached out, yanking the man back by the shoulder. He didn't like how close and threatening he was getting toward Tifa.

The man shrugged Kongol's hand off with an apologetic look. "Sorry, I didn't even introduce us. I'm Dart, and this is my wife, Shana. We made an appointment to speak with Strife personally," Dart explained. He turned to Kongol.

"He said we weren't allowed by," Shana added, smiling at Kongol. Kongol turned to Tifa.

"Master Strife said no disturbance," he protested, setting his frame against the doorway.

"I know, Kongol," Tifa said gently, laying a small hand on his arm. Kongol offered her a rare smile, nodding his head and turning back to the Gijitsu associates. "I'm so sorry, but Clou-Strife doesn't want to accept appointments today," she said, catching herself.

Dart pursed his lips for a moment, ready to protest more on their part, but a hard look from Kongol changed his mind. He nodded his head. "Very well. Tell Strife to contact Haschel as soon as possible, please," Dart added, taking Shana by the arm and leading her out of the office.

Tifa remained silent as she watched them go. She finally turned to Kongol. "You did fine," she said, squeezing his arm. Kongol nodded once again.

"You need rest. Face look unhealthy," he added gruffly, indicating the bags under her eyes. She brushed his concern off with a strained laugh, waving her hand dismissively.

"It's fine, I've just been working too much," she insisted, turning to go.

"Some stuff not meant to change," Kongol said cryptically. Tifa stopped, blinking several times before frowning up at Kongol's face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked softly, watching his impassive face. Kongol simply shrugged, refusing to elaborate further. Tifa shook her head. He could be a very confusing person sometimes.

* * *

Strife stared down at the Mako with glazed eyes. It had thawed within days, leaving him with a cup of shimmering liquid. He reached out absently, running his finger along the rim of the cup.

The knocking at his door snapped him back to reality and he quickly shoved the cup behind a stack of books, admitting the person, who he knew was Tifa, entrance.

"Cloud? Hey, that's the second troupe from Haschel. Are you sure you don't wanna accept?" she asked tentatively, noticing the way his eyes kept flitting to the books. She sighed, the sound escaping her lips before she could stop it.

"Of course. I said I didn't wanna be disturbed,"Strife snapped, causing her eyes to go wide with surprise.Strife shook his head, reaching up to rub his temples. Tifa took a step forward, frowning in confusion. She blinked several times, noticing the concentration Strife was putting into focusing his eyes.

"Sorry for disturbing you," Tifa murmured, hurrying out the door.

"Tifa, wait!" he called, sighing when the door slammed shut. He rubbed his forehead, which was throbbing with pain.

He had been dreaming of her again. It had been happening a lot lately, the strange dreams. They seemed almost real. Yet, everytime he got close to her, everytime he had the chance to reach out and touch her, something interrupted him.

A part of him felt guilty for not telling Tifa and Barret. But, the other, more personal side, wanted the dreams. It was a secret pleasure he shared only with himself. Shaking his head to rid himself of the disturbing thoughts, he glanced at the Mako.

If only he had a way to get more of it... The Mako he currently posessed was no longer usable. Taken from it's natural habitat, the Mako had thinned and become a dull grey, a sign that there was no longer any power within it. Swirling the liquid in the cup, he dipped a finger inside.

He felt nothing. Just the cold rush of liquid meeting his skin. The building was kept heated at the moment, due to the unusual cold spell that had hit Sector Seven once again. Withdrawing his finger, he wiped it on a stray piece of paper. It left behind no residue, another thing that assured him it was useless.

Perhaps he should contact Haschel. They could work a plan out ot secure the Mako pools before Sephiroth did. Strife felt a pang of bitterness at the thought of the mercenary. If he had only realized Sephiroth's plans earlier, none of this would have been happening.

Finding out the most recent news of Sephiroth being in Alliance with Kuja and the stolen materia confirmed it. Sephiroth had different motives than a simple materia book.

He jerked his hand toward the phone. No use dwelling on it. He dialed Haschel's number, waiting patiently as it rung.

"You rejectfour of my Associates, yet you personally call me. I'm telling you Strife, you're getting as unpredictable as Cid," Haschel said conversationally.

"Nevermind about that," Strife said, getting straight to the point. "I need your help."

"Oh, really? Well this is a surprise," Haschel said mildly. Strife ignored the mocking tone in his voice.

"We need to find a way to get that Mako."

* * *

Oh, whew, I cannot stop laughing my ass off! I had Tadpole edit while we were watching Aqua Teen, so sorry for any of her mistakes, lol! OMG, it was the Super Birthday Snake episode, lol, and the snake pecks at Meatwad and you can see little chunks of his meat fall on the ground, LMAO! Oh, god, just read and review, lol...


	13. Chapter Twelve

**OMG, someone sent an e-mail asking if this was gonna be an Ansem/Maleficent romance. OMG. I'm absolutely disgusted. For that person, who wished to remain anonymous(I gotcha buddy!), NO, EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW... This will not be a romance, hardly at all, so no.**

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Chapter Twelve-Truths And Death Wishes_**

"Come on, Serge, you know it isn't safe to be in this Sector," Meru whispered fearfully, moving closer to him as they passed a group of business people dressed in suits and ties. Serge rolled his eyes, reaching up to run a hand through his blue hair.

"Oh, Hell, Meru, what are they gonna do? Sue us first, and then send us to jail? I mean, look at these people! They look like they got something stuck up their ass. Besides, this ain't official Alliance territory. You know Sector Eight is the only neutral one. And besides _that_, we gotta wait for Tidus to get outta the bathroom," he added, looking across the street as something caught his eye.

"Hey, ain't that guy with the tail in Underground?" Meru asked, leaning over his shoulder to peer across the street as well. Serge studied the man closely. Yep, he was the same one that had came and helped that Garnet girl when Devil's had been shooting at her.

"Yeah, yeah it is. Who's that with him?" he asked, indicating a big, blue beast. It was not uncommon for inhabitants of Midgar to be unhuman, so the two were not startled by the beast's appearence. Meru shrugged, pointing once again as a girl emerged from behind the blue thing.

"Who's the girl? She familiar?" Meru asked, nudging him in the elbow. Serge squinted, not sure if he was seeing correctly. His eyes narrowed against the sun, and then they went wide with shock.

"Holy shit, that's Tidus' girlfriend!" he exclaimed, grabbing Meru by the arm and yanking her behind a bus stop bench. "Stay here while I run back and get Tidus, okay?" She nodded silently, eyes wide and eager as he sprinted off back toward the small store Tidus had stopped in.

* * *

"So, Haschel and Cid shouldknow whothey're sending by the end of the week?" Zidane asked, swishing his tail and watching in amusement as the girl's eyes followed it. 

"Yes. He said he would contact Strife," Yuna added, resisting the urge to chase his tail. She giggled when he looped the ankle of a passerby, quickly hiding his tail behind his leg when the man looked back at them.

"You should watch your feet, you know," Zidane said casually, snickering when the man just blinked in confusion before hurrying off. "It's so easy," he added, turning to wink at Yuna.

Yuna chuckled, turning to Kimahri when she felt his hand on her shoulder. Without speaking, she understood that it was time to go, and she turned to Zidane, offering her hand.

"It was nice meeting you, Zidane. And you should watch your tail," she added, giggling again when he swished it once more. He smiled sheepishly, tucking it under his jacket before taking her hand.

"The pleasure was all mine," he said, grinning brightly. "I'll make sure to keep it in," he added, patting the spot where his tail resided. "See ya later," he added, fading into the passing crowd.

Yuna smiled up at Kimahri, ready to go. However, the grim set of his jaw caused her to turn back around, and she felt her blood still. She felt her breath catch in her throat. Well, this was an awkward situation.

Tidus, the man she least wanted to see at the moment,was standing rigidly next to the lightpole on the corner, his arms crossed over his chest. Even with the fewmeters seperating them from each othershe could tell he was breathing heavily in anger.

She faltered. She had known it would come down to this, she just didn't expect him to find out as he had.

"So, how long?" he asked, jerking his head toward Zidane's general direction.

"I-I don't know what-"

"Don't give me that shit, Yuna," he said coldly, cutting her useless reply off. "How long have you been miliking me for information," he asked, taking a step toward her. Kimahri let out a low rumble in warning, and Yuna placed a hand on her arm. He glanced down at her and she nodded. She trusted Tidus not to hurt her. Or at least she thought she did.

"It's not... It's not entirely like that, Tidus," she said softly, taking a few steps forward and reaching out to grab his hand. He jerked back out of her reach, a look of pure disgust plastered on his face. He took a moment to regain his composure, all the while staring at her furiously.

"How long?" he demanded, his voice cold and quiet.

"Since a few months ago," Yuna whispered quietly, staring at the floor between her feet. Tidus' sharp intake of breath caused her to look up, and she realized he was on the brink of tears.

"This whole fucking time," he said, gritting his teeth. Yuna took a deep, shaky breath, trying hard not to sniffle.

"It's not like you think, Tidus," she said, clenching her jaw when he snorted derisively. "Really, I didn't want to, but... I had no choice," she said, her voice breaking.

Tidus sneered, his face contorting angrily. "No choice, huh? You didn't have the choice to say, no, I don't wanna do this? I was nothing but a fucking piece of information," he said fiercely. When Yuna moved forward once again he shoved her hands away. "Keep your hands off me, damnit," he spat.

Yuna inhaled sharply once again. "I'm sorry Tidus, I really am," she said quietly, averting her eyes when he leaned down to look at her face. He snorted in the same derisive manner once again.

"So am I," he said somberly, turning on his heel and stalking back across the street.

Yuna felt Kimahri's arm around her shoulder and she turned and buried her face in his chest, sobbing quietly.

* * *

Hook watched with narrowed eyes as the Ronso beast escorted the girl from Gijitsu away from the blonde. He had heard every part of the conversation, but he had no intention of telling it like that. 

It would ruin all the fun. So what if the boy had been a little pet for Gijitsu? He would simply be killed and that would be the end of it. Perhaps... Hook gave no one in particular a pleased grin. Perhaps he could say that Northside and Gijitsu were working together?

He nodded to himself, starting off toward the headquarters. He had just taken his break, but he knew that the others wouldn't want to wait for this information. He mentally put the speech through his head as he entered the swinging glass doors to Devil's Anthem.

* * *

"Are you telling me, Hook, that Northside and Gijitsu are in collaboration?" Ansem demanded sharply, his eyes narrowing as a gleeful look settled on Hook's face. 

"Of course I'm sure! I saw the blonde and the girl from Gijitsu talking about who they were sending to retrieve 'it',"Hook added, trying to hide the smug smile he knew was forming. Ansem's head snapped up at his last sentence.

"They were discussing retrieving something? Tell me, did you hear what it was they were after?" he asked, leaning forward from his desk. Hook shook his head, shrugging carelessly.

Who the Hell cared about that? He wanted to see the death warrants, the contracts, the violence. Ansem brought his fist down on his desk, causing Hook to inch away slightly. He was a rather violent man.

"No, I caught them just in time to hear that," he replied, gesturing at Ansem to indicate his former answer. Ansem sighed, shaking his head as he did so.

"Very well," he added, waving a dismissive hand toward Hook and turning his back. Hook felt his jaw drop.

"That's it? You mean you aren't going to go after Northside or nothing? We were working with them!" he exclaimed incredulously. Ansem turned halfway, giving him a fulminating glower.

"Is that not your department?" he snapped impatiently, indicating the door with a meaningful hand once again.

Hook stomped out of the room, slamming the door with more force than intended. He curled his fists as he turned to sneer at the door. Stupid man.

He stopped short when he spotted one of his secretaries. "You!"

The secretary dropped the load of books in her hand, turning around and straightening her askew glasses as she stared fearfully at him. "What do you need, Mr. Hook?" the girl asked, her voice shaking. Hook shared a small smile with himself. It was good that his inferiors feared him.

"Get me contracts on Seifer from Northside. And his advisor, Gippal, too," he barked, throwing in the second name for sport. The less the better, in his opinion.

"Sir, are you sure?" the secretary asked, shoving her glasses further up on her nose. "They're really important people," she added meekly, noticing Hook's outraged look.

"Did I ask for your back talk?" he bellowed, tossing a pen in her general direction. It flew well over her shoulder, and Hook took notice of his horrible aim with a grimace. "Just do what the Hell I said," he added, turning and walking away.

The service here really needed improvement.

* * *

"Haschel, you old man, how have you been holding up?" Cid boomed, barging into his partner's office without knocking. Haschel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

"Just wonderfull," he said snidely. "How about you, my fine fellow?" he said, raising an eyebrow. Cid gave a hearty chuckle, reaching down to pat his rotund middle.

"Quite well, quite well! Now," Cid added seriously, seating himself and crossing an ankle over his knee expertly. "What's this ridiculous business with Strife?"

Haschel sighed, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He gave Cid a strained look.

"He wants to retrieve the rest of the Mako," he said quietly.

Cid took this very slowly. The reaction started in his leg, which stopped swinging and slowly came to a halt. It moved to his fingers, which ceased their restless tapping on the arm chair. And then it went to his face, which went completely blank for a good few seconds before his lips drooped in a worried frown.

"And what the Hell does that have to do with us?" he asked, though from the weary tone in his voice, Haschel knew there was no need to reply. Cid sighed, taking a moment to mentally think the situation through. "He wants help?" he asked for clarification.

Haschel nodded grimly.

Cid resumed his silence. "I suppose you've already considered who best to send?" he asked neutrally, giving Haschel a slightly irritated look.

Haschel's spine stiffened at the condescending tone Cid used with him. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I have," he responded indignantly, keeping his face impassive.

"Calm down, Haschel, old boy," Cid said, sighing in defeat as he sagged in his chair. "We're getting a bit too old for this," he added wryly, running a hand over the grey beard he sported nowadays.

"Trying to shirk your duties?" Haschel asked lightly, the eyebrow going up once again as he let the tension drain from him. "I never expected it from you," he added mockingly, shaking his head with a small smile.

Cid chuckled goodnaturedly, shaking his head as well. "So, who do you have in mind?" he asked, leaning back to study Haschel closely. "Keep in mind the mercenary is involved with this," he added, squinting against the glare of the setting sun on Haschel's windows.

"I have only one request. I wish for my Advisor, Nanaki, to be present. The rest is up to you," Haschel added, walking slowly to his chair and sinking down slowly into the cushion.

"I will talk to Strife about it," Cid said distantly, his attention on the sun. Haschel leaned over, effectively blocking the light. Cid shifted his gaze to Haschel, letting out that same chuckle once again as he stood up.

"Do take care," Haschel said with concern, giving his friend and partner a warm handshake. Cid smiled, nodding his head before disappearing out the door.

* * *

Meh, my tummy is still rolling from that e-mail. Now all I see when I close my eyes is Maleficent swinging her cape around her head and trying to balance her staff on those little horn things. Holy damn, I'm fucked up...Oo Anyways, read and review. Oh god, I need a toilet... 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**First things first. Sorry it took so long for the updates. But, Tadpole had to visit her Daddy, who lives, like, way out in some God-forsaken Cajun place, so it took a while for her to get back. Thanks for the patience. And, yes, to Lashey, I took my e-mail off and made a new one. I love you, honey, but the ten e-mails a day just wasn't working out. I appreciate that you read the story, but stalking me for an update was scary! Much love, and...everything... just, don't haunt my e-mail!**

**OK, to the person who asked about Leon, lol, he's just plain Squall in this, because I wanted him and Rinoa to be together. And seems how Rinny wasn't in KH, I had to make him Leonheart, instead. And, to the rest of the people who read the story, thanks, a lot. It's nice to know that people are actually interested.**

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Chapter Thirteen-Those Who Dwell In Darkness_**

They stood across from each other, nearly matched in height, nearly matched in hair, but not anywhere near matched in power.

"Do you mean to tell me, Sephiroth, that materia has never been your intent?"

The soft utter from Kuja invoked a raised eyebrow from hisdeadly companion.

"Have I ever stated that I intended to use the Mako for materia?" Sephiroth countered, his voice just as soft. It was Kuja's first warning.

Silence. Kuja studied the other man solemnly, feeling a small inkling of turmoil inside his ever-clicking brain. This presented a whole new obstacle course of opposition. His entirety of working with Sephiroth had also been spent plotting against him, and the outlandish news brought more than a shocked countenace.

"Your ties to the Alliances are now broken?" Sephiroth asked, continuing on as if Kuja had not interrupted him. Kuja inclined his head in a jerky manner, and Sephiroth went so far as to sigh. "Come, Kuja, of what importance is this to you? I have no purpose to dispose of you as I did Kadaj," Sephiroth added, his green eyes narrowing fractionally.

Kuja remained silent for a moment, taking the time to compose a decent answer. "It is simply... Shocking, to say the least," Kuja replied, deciding that it would do for the time being. He was no fool, and he knew Sephiroth was more cunning then he lead on.

"Shocking? I am surprised, Kuja," Sephiroth said, his voice lowering an octave. Kuja felt a cold tingling run along the length of his spine, and he waited for Sephiroth to elaborate. "Not much slips past you, considering how quickly you informed me of Kadaj," Sephiroth added, his face blanking expertly.

Kuja took a deep breath, forcibly calming himself at the warning, yet very cryptic, tone of Sephiroth's voice. He was merely fooling himself into believing there was something more behind the man's words.

"Yes, but, as I said, it was very unexpected. You showed great interest in the book you obtained for the Underground leader," Kuja replied evenly, careful to keep his voice neutral, lest he offend Sephiroth.

Sephiroth waved his hand dismissively, as if closing the matter. "A mere ploy to confuse the minds of my followers," he explained shortly, his voice taking on a sharp edge. Kuja nodded, gesturing at the materia inSphiroth's hand.

"Then what, Sephiroth, _is_ your intent for the Mako? Should you not need it for the Mako, then what purpose would it suit you?" Kuja asked, changing the subject abruptly. Though he did not fear Sephiroth, he was weary to provoke his own death by the man's blade.

Sephiroth was silent as he stared searchingly at Kuja. Kuja did not squirm under his intense scrutiny, but he did feel the same, odd tingling feeling, this time in his entire body.

"To breed," Sephiroth said slowly, his eyes lowering to the materia in his hand.

Kuja raised an eyebrow, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. "Come again?" he blurted, not sure if he had heard his companion correctly.

"To breed," Sephiroth repeated, this time his eyes clashing with Kuja's, which narrowed to slits.

"The same as your mother, and the puppet, Strife," hesaid quietly, the phrase coming outas a statement instead of a question. Hewatched in silent curiosity as Sephiroth lifted the materia in his hands, cradling it gently.

"Yes. However, I will not fail. Such as I was produced from Jenova, and Strife from myself, I will create a new being. One more powerful than any witnessed before." Sephiroth lifted his eyes to meet Kuja's, as if challenging his to disagree.

"Very well. I assume you wish for me to find an able-bodied creature?" Kuja asked, his mind spinning with many incoherent thoughts as he waited for Sephiroth's answer.

"Indeed, it must be able-bodied. I will be at the edge of Mythril Cave in two weeks. Do not fail me, Kuja," Sephiroth added. With that, he turned on his heel, disappearing into the throng of people walking the littered streets of Midgar.

Kuja watched him go, blinking rapidly. There was something, at the tip of his mind... Something Ansem had mentioned to him in passing, something that had been irrelevent then. He narrowed his eyes as the thought came to him.

_"I used to study creatures called the Heartless. They were nasty beings, without heart, without soul, without mind. However, they soon became useless, and I abandoned my studies and specimen..."_

The Heartless.

* * *

"So, anyone got any bright assideas? We been here all fuckin' mornin'," Barret griped, glaring at those seated around the table. 

Tifa sighed, rubbing her temples. "I just don't know. We can't really spare anyone, but Cl-I mean, Strife, really wants us to send a few people," she repeated for the hundreth time, finally starting to feel the strain of the meeting.

"Well, why can't he go by himself? I mean, he's pretty strong," Zidane, the messanger for the Alliance, added. Tifa nodded, letting her head fall into her palm as she sighed once again.

"I know, but Gijitsu wants at least three other people. Counting Strife, we need two others," she said, closing her eyes as Barret started in on another round of complaining..

"Who the fuck cares? Let me and Chrono go. We'll find this fucking shit and be done with it," Barret said, sending Chrono a strange look. Chrono looked likely to refuse, but at Barret's heated glare, he snapped his mouth shut, opting instead to nod his head roughly a few times.

"Barret, don't threaten the others into going. This is serious," Tifa said, giving him an exasperated look. He gave her a sheepish, mulish pout, his breath coming out in one, large exhalation.

"Fine, damnit, I'll go, and then you bastards pick someone else. You got ten minutes to decide, or pickin' a name from a fuckin' hat, you got it?" he barked, standing up and shoving his chair back roughly. He strode from the room, slamming the door in his wake, causing the frame and glass-encased pictures to quiver.

"Any takers?" Tifa asked quietly, glancing around the table.

"Kongol will go."

Tifa gave him a startled look, having nearly fogotten he was present. She nodded, however, giving him a grateful smile.

"Fine, then. Kongol and Barret will go with Strife and the rest from Gijitsu. Anyone else?" she asked, not even bothering to look up and confirm as she jotted their names down on a slip of paper.

Not to her surprise, the table remained silent, and she stood up, making her way to the door. "Remember, this isn't to leave the Alliance," she said, giving all of them stern looks. Though she trusted each and every member present, there was never any real way to tell who was who. "Don't be late for work tomorrow!" she added, slamming the door shut.

* * *

"You have not completed your tasks. The mercenary and Alliance leaders still live." 

"I know," Seifer muttered, clutching his head as the voice whispered softly to him. "But, they won't die. They won't die..."

"That is not my concern. Kill the Alliance leaders! The mercenary must die as well!"

"Why?" he mumbled weakly, feeling a dull, throbbing ache envelope the whole of his head. "I don't understand," he said, his voice coming out in a harsh croak as he stumbled against his desk.

"Fool! Do not question me!"

"But, I don't understand!" Seifer cried vehemently, his voice rising in pitch as he thrashed about his office. His eyes widened as his vision cleared slightly, and he recognized the gold-plated nameplate on his desk."Where am I?" he bellowed, throwing his fist against the nameplate. He watched as it clattered to the floor, and his vision fogged once again.

"You defy me, boy?"

"No, get away!"

"Seifer? Seifer, what the Hell is going on?"

Seifer could hear a distant crash and the sound of something cracking before a hand was on his shoulder. He jerked back, fighting to get away from the fingers that dug into his skin.

"Seifer, what the Hell is wrong with you?" He felt someone jerk him upright in a surprisingly strong grasp and he was presented with the blurred picture of a blonde man's face.

"Gippal?" The name came to him from out of nowhere, and he tried to focus on the face in front of him.

"Seifer, what the Hell? What happened to your office?" the man named Gippal asked, staring around at the clutter with a confused expression on his face.

"Kill him." Seifer felt his hands jerk forward against his will and close around Gippal's throat.

"No!" he protested, watching as Gippal's eyes widened in shock and his fingers scratched at Seifer's hands. "Get outta my head!" he bellowed, squeezing his eyes shut and trying desperately to block the voice out.

"What the fuck?" Gippal said, his voice coming out in a ragged choke. Seifer saw Gippal's knee shoot up, and he felt a spiral of pain start at his groin, and then work it's way up to his navel and stomach.

He dropped his hands from Gippal's throat and clutched his injured parts, grimacing in pain. He felt something else collide with his head, and his vision blurred with tears as he squinted against the light flooding his eyes. He felt a final, solid whack in his neck and he fell to the carpeted floor.

* * *

Maleficent watched silently as Jafar's face contorted with frustration and his staff cluttered to the tile. She quirked an eyebrow when he looked up at her with a helpless expression. 

"It is too late. I fear that the connection has been lost," Jafar uttered, snatching his Staff of Snakes off the floor and bringing it to close to his face to peer directly into the glowing, orb-like crimson eyes.

Maleficent felt a flare of anger as her impatience grew with each passing second.

"It is broken," Jafar said, a tone of finality in his voice as he once again turned his eyes to Maleficent. The witch stared down at the lanky, disfigured man, her eyes narrowing to slits. "There was intervention," Jafar added hastily, seeing the dangerous glint in the witch's eyes.

Maleficent spared Jafar a curt nod before sweeping from the room. Although she did not miss Jafar's instant sigh of relief. It brought her a small amount of satisfaction. It was good to know that others did not underestimate her powers.

She made her way swiftly to Ansem's office, deciding that a plan of action should be formed, if not executed. She threw the door open without knocking and strode inside, slamming it shut with the butt of her staff before fixing Ansem with a steady gaze.

"Maleficent," he greeted, raising an eyebrow slowly. He put the paperwork in his hands down in a sloppy pile and capped his pen, all the while keeping his golden eyes on her. "May I help you?" he prompted, gesturing with a nod at the mountain of paperwork.

"Jafar has lost control over the boy," she said abruptly, never one to beat around the bush. Ansem clenched his fists at the news, his face remaining impassive as he studied her silently.

"I'm assuming this is recent," he said, standing up and striding toward his windows. He opened the blinds, squinting as the sunlight poured into the room, tracing the dark contours of the corners. He studied the city below for another moment.

"Yes. I was just informed by Jafar himself," Maleficent offered, appearing somewhere near his left. She towered over him in height by nearly half of a foot, but he was not intimidated, as many others were.

"Very well. I'm also assuming that you have come up with a course of action?" he asked, giving her a glance from the corner of his eye. A small, amused smirk surfaced on her face, and she chuckled dryly.

"Are you not the Alliance leader?" she asked quietly, sweeping her hand at the city below. "Surely you can present me with a plausible course of action," she added, returning her hand to it's rightful place on her staff.

This time Ansem was the one to laugh. "In other words, you haven't a clue as to what we should do," he stated, still chuckling as he strolled over to the map hanging on his wall. It outlined each territory in a seperate color. There were only two black ones. Two for Devil's Anthem. Yet, as he traced the map with his fore finger, he observed two blue, that of Northside.

A sneer curled his upper lip, and he turned to face Maleficent with an amused look.

"We will wage war on Northside. Demolish them, take their territory, and start our reign," he informed her, his tone becoming sharp and businesslike as he started back toward his desk. Maleficent moved toward the door, pausing momentarily before twisting the knob.

"Still with your foolish visions of dominance," she said softly, closing the door before he could reply. Ansem shrugged carelessly.

Let the witch think what she wanted. In the end, she would still turn out to be his opponet, and she would be dealt with when the time for called for it. For now, however, she proved a valuable ally, and he was not keen on losing her loyalty.

* * *

Strife stared silently at the two sitting across from him. 

Kongol was stiff and upright in the chair, his arms folded awkwardly across his chest. Not that Strife could blame him. Hell, he had only seen Kongol in a chair, well... never.

Barret... Strife fought back a laugh. Barret looked just as impatient and ready to move as always. His legs were propped up on Strife's desk, an ankle hooked over the other, his foot swaying in rythm to some silent tune in his head.

Yet they were both here, nonetheless, ready to risk their lives for what they, no doubt, believed to be a foolish notion. He stood up.

"You two know the risks?" he asked quietly, presenting them with his back as he leaned against his chair. He heard Barret snort in a derisive manner.

"That all the fuck you called us down here for?" he asked, his voice filled with annoyance. Strife couldn't contain his laugh this time, and he gripped the side of his chair as he shook silently with mirth. "Ain't a damn thing funny, Spike," Barret snapped, his chair sliding back roughly as he stood up.

Strife turned his last guffaw into an odd sort of choking noise before turning around to face them. "But you understand the risks, right? I don't wanna hear any sort of complaining, especially from you, Barret, and all your-"

"We understand the goddamn risks, Spike. Kongol, ain't that right?" Barret asked tightly, turning to give Kongol a fierce look. Kongol remained silent a moment longer as he stared at Strife.

"Kongol knows the risks," the large man stated gruffly, his eyes never leaving Strife's face. Barret gave an impatient sigh as he turned back to Strife.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, Barret, lemme get to the point," Strife said, waving his hand flippantly as he rolled his eyes. "Look,I know you two are probably only doing this 'cause there were too many meetings, but... I just wanna say, well..."

"Shut up," Barret said abruptly, causing Strife's head to snap up, his brow furrowed. "You don't owe us no damn thanks, Cloud," Barret said, surprising Strife with the use of his former name. "We do it because you ask, because you're our fucking leader. Where you lead, we follow, no questions asked. It's how respect works," Barret said, shrugging his massive shoulders and turning sharply.

"Now, I'm gettin' the fuck outta here. I promised Marlene I would be back before six," he added, opening the door and taking his leave quickly.

Strife was no less than floored. Never, in his life, had he heard so much respect in one man's voice, let alone Barret's. And all this respect... Was for him?

"You are a strong man, Boss. Kongol will gaurd you with his life," Kongol said, shattering Strife's thoughts. A smile fell on his lips as he lifted his head to look Kongol in the eyes.

"Not alot of people can claim to say that and mean it, Kongol. Thank you. I mean it," he said, clapping the man on the shoulder. Kongol gave him a rare smile, inclining his head in a mute form of respect before turning toward the door.

"Kongol will leave now." With that, he was gone, leaving Strife alone with his thoughts.

While he was extremely flattered that two men such as Kongol and Barret respected him so, it disturbed him more than he liked to admit.

What if he was wrong? What if he got them all killed?

_"We do it because you ask. Because you're our fucking leader. Where you lead, we follow, no questions asked. It's how respect works."_

The thing was, what if he led them wrong? What if he went somewhere which meant following led to their death. He couldn't help but wonder if they would still feel the same.

* * *

OK, remember, any mistakes blame on Tadpole, and I'll have another chapter up in a few days. After much chastising by Tadpole, I've realized that I must make slightly more detailed outlines, to keep track of where stuff is going. 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**I've realized something while working on this with Tadpole. 1.) Never trust a blonde to work with you on thinking stuff. 2.) With so many games and characters, it's very hard to remember who belongs to who, what they do, if their plot intent is finished, and so on and so forth. Therefore, because some of my chapter and character outlines contain about ten words at the max, if I make a mistake, please point it out. **

**With that said, on with the story. By the way, no offense to blonde people...**

_Sinner's Descent_

**_Chapter Fourteen-Clones And Chaos_**

"It is agreed then, Haschel?" Cid said, plopping the stack of papers on his desk. They were the files for the two candidates T.G. had chosen to come with him to Mythril Cave, excluding the red beast.

Haschel read the names silently, lifting his eyes to meet with T.G.'s before offering the old man a smile. "Excellent. I knew I could count on you, Cid," Haschel said, neatly arranging the folders before filing them in his desk drawer.

Cid chuckled merrily, taking a seat across from Haschel. "The first is a rather gifted swordsman. Not quite an expected selection, but they are well worth it. Second in command, only under you and myself," Cid added. Haschel did not miss the hint of pride in his companion's voice.

"I'm assuming you've trained this young man yourself, then?" Haschel asked, leaning forward on his elbows. He was glad that Cid had decided to stay for a small chat. He needed the distraction from his paperwork.

"Woman," Cid corrected him, causing Haschel's eyes to widen. Cid laughed heartily, stroking his silver beard. "Surprised, aren't we? I know, I did not mean to bring her, but I wish for safety on this trip. I am not as young as I used to be," Cid said, patting his slightly portly stomach with a good-natured grin.

Haschel laughed, erupting into a fit of coughs mid-way between a chuckle. Cid gave him a concerned look, but he brushed it off, shaking his head as he spit a wad of mucus into a paper towel.

"Fine, Cid, just fine. It's this damn flu that's been going around," Haschel said breezily, tossing the soiled napkin into the waste basket. "And I still say that you could take any man in this city," he added, giving Cid a smirk.

"Insult taken, old man, insult taken," Cid said, sighing heavily as he heaved himself from his seat. "Well, I planned to stay longer, Haschel, old boy, but now that I think about it, I should probably inform Meliadoul and the other that they are going," Cid added, grinning in a wolfish manner before starting toward the door.

"Just like you not to tell them, old man," Haschel said lightly, shaking his head as he adjusted his glasses on his face. "I have the meeting with Strife later this afternoon. I will inform you later as to when he wishes to depart," Haschel added, giving Cid a slight nod before the man disappeared from the room with a cocky smile.

* * *

Haschel watched the door with growing impatience before checking his watch once again. Strife was late. 

He hooked an ankle over his knee and sighed, shaking his head as he rested his arm against the comfortable sofa. The small office building was a side department for storing paperwork and such for Gijitsu.

Haschel felt himself grimace at the thought of paperwork. Since the war with Northside and Devil's had started, another unexpected turn from the both of the Alliances, it seemed he had done nothing _but_ paperwork.

The door swung open, and Haschel looked up sharply, his face lighting up at the sight of Strife slouching through the door.

"Strife, you dog! It's been four months!" Haschel said warmly, pumping his hand heartily. Strife managed a genuine smile, shaking his head as a small laugh escaped him.

"It's good to see a friendly face," Strife said, sinking down into a chair with a tired sigh.

"You don't sound too well," Haschel said, concern tinted in his voice. Strife shook his head once again, letting his forehead fall into his hand.

"Don't worry about me, Haschel. Let's get this done and over with. Ever since that damn war with Devil's and Northside I've got nothin' but a mountain of fuckin' paperwork," Strife said, his voice sounding ragged and wore out.

Haschel raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I know. I've already emptied my filing cabinet three times," he added, extracting a pen and pad of paper from his briefcase.

"I'm bringing Barret and Kongol, along with myself," Strife said, getting straight to business. Haschel studied him thoughtfully. Strife took notice, and he gave Haschel a raggedy laugh. "I know what you're thinkin', but they were the only two from my trusted ring of members, and they won't disappoint," he added, nodding his head confidently.

Haschel shrugged, leaving the statement unanswered as he scribbled their names down. "Cid and I have decided on my Advisor, Nanaki, and two others. Meliadoul and Frog," Haschel added, adding the names to the list. "With Cid, that will be a total of seven. Anything else I should add?" Haschel asked, his pen pausing over the paper.

"Time isn't a risky factor yet," Strife said absently, gazing at the floor, his eyes fogging with uncertainty. "However, we can't wait too long," he added, blinking and shaking his head slightly. He ignored Haschel's suspicious look as he pondered the time.

"A month?" Haschel offered carefully. Strife blinked a few more times before nodding.

"Yeah, a month should about do it. We gotta make preparations and whatnot. So, that should be good," Strife added, nodding his head, as if assuring himself.

"If you say," Haschel muttered, narrowing his eyes before settling back in the sofa. "What's causing you to worry so much? Is there any information you're withholding from me?" Haschel asked, though his tone lacked the proper accusation.

"There's nothing wrong with me, damnit," Strife snapped, standing up abruptly. "I'll be in contact in a few weeks, Haschel," he added curtly, slamming the door shut as he stomped out of the room.

Haschel stared after him for a moment, taking the time to regain his composure. He didn't know if he should be worried or not about Strife's behavior, but something nagged at the back of his brain.

Something told him that this small Mako trip was going to be more trouble than he had perceived.

* * *

"So, it was that bad, huh?" 

Garnet leaned against the wooden bench her best friend was currently situated on, her eyes occasionally following a few suspicious passing people. After the run-in with Devil's a while back, she was constantly on her gaurd.

"Yeah, he was close to losing it," Yuna replied absently, seemingly in a daze as a heavy sigh escaped her lips. Garnet saw her wince, and she frowned, biting her lip with worry.

"You sure you okay, Yuna?" she asked, scooting around the bench and taking a seat next to the other young woman. "You don't sound too good," she added, reaching out tentatively to touch Yuna's shoulder.

Yuna gave her a faint smile, inclining her head slightly. "I'm fine, Garnet. After all, it was just work, right?" she asked, phrasing the sentence more as a question rather than a statement. Garnet's frown deepened when Yuna turned to stare at her with hopeful eyes.

"I don't think so, Yuna. You talked about him quite a lot. Even Lulu noticed," Garnet added gently, inwardly cringing when Yuna's eyes started to water. She opened her mouth to console the other woman, but a brash voice cut her off.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't _you_." The voice was distinctly familiar, and Garnet turned to face the speaker.

"_You!_" she gasped, jaw dropping at the sight of the familiar blue mop of hair. Serge's eyes, however, were focused on Yuna, and his face was filled with anger.

"Couldn't wait to run off and tell your friends how humiliated Tidus was, huh? Sniveling, conniving-"

"Shut up!" Garnet bellowed, hopping to her feet and snatching Serge's arm to swing him around to face her. She knew it was relatively dangerous, seeing how Serge was probably armed, but she also had to consider Yuna's great sensitivity to the matter at hand.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Serge sneered, his eyes narrowing as he glowered at Garnet, angered by the interruption.

"I believe I could ask _you_ the same question," Garnet snapped back, eyes just as fierce as she matched his glare.

"_I_ was just walking by," he replied with a snort, eyes moving to Yuna. "Ain't you in Underground? Better watch your back, little girl, this one likes to squeal," Serge added nastily, nodding his head at Yuna. Garnet nearly winced at the sound of Yuna's sharp intake of breath.

She felt her temper flare even hotter as she narrowed her eyes to slits. "I suggest you move along," she said coldly, taking a deep breath to keep her composure.

Serge scoffed, shaking his head before shoving past her and striding by Yuna. He kept his gaze straight, but Garnet could still see the hatred in his eyes.

"Yuna?" Garnet said quietly, following Serge with her eyes when her friend remained deathly silent.

"It's fine, Garnet. Just fine. I think I'm going to go home, now," Yuna said softly, rising to her feet and offering Garnet a small, tight smile before disappearing in the crowd.

Garnet sighed, closing her eyes and running a hand absently through her hair. Damn that man and his blue hair.

* * *

"Seifer, are you sure you're okay, man?" Gippal asked, offering the man another ice pack. Seifer nodded silently, slapping the packet of ice on the back of his head with a wince. 

"Fine, Gip, fine. I can't believe them mother fuckers, though," he added bitterly, running his tongue over his lip, which tasted faintly of blood still. Damn, Gippal had really hit him hard.

"Yeah, it's been goin' on for quite some time," Gippal added, sinking down into the chair beside Seifer. "You don't remember anything?" he continued, helping Seifer switch the ice pack over. Seifer shook his head with a sigh.

"No, not really. I remember that bastard talking to me, tellin' me to do all kinds of stupid shit," he said wearily, reaching up to massage his aching neck. "How fucking hard did you hit me?" he griped, flinching as he hit a sore spot.

Gippal snorted, throwing him an offensive look. "You were tryin' to choke me, damnit. You didn't think I was just gonna tap you, did you? Jeez, you were under that damn thing too long. You say it started when you went to that meeting with Devil's?" he asked, dodging Seifer's fist.

"Yeah, I think. I remember bitching about Ansem not bein' there, then that creepy witch woman came in, and then that foreign guy started talkin' 'bout some type of deal-hey! That reminds me! You know, Ansem was shitting with us the whole time? They said he was in league with the fuckin' mercenary!" Seifer said, jumping to his feet in his fit of temper.

Gippal gave him a penseive frown. "Really? Far as I know, Devil's is still hunting the mercenary. So is Strife and Haschel, but the bastard's disappeared. We can't find him anywhere, and we don't think he fled the city," Gippal added, causing Seifer's face to distort.

"So all this shit was for nothin'?" he asked incredulously. Gippal barked out a laugh, slapping his thighs loudly.

"What the hell did you expect? Get some hero notion for it?" he joked, noticing the serious look on Seifer's face for the first time. "You're fucking crazy, Seifer! Those bastards could have gotten you killed!" Gippal exclaimed, a disbelieving look on his face.

Seifer shook his head, taking the ice pack off of his head. He felt around, feeling damp clumps of hair tangled around the large knot forming on his scalp.

"I know. Just pissed it didn't amount to nothing," Seifer added with a shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. It must have been believable, because Gippal immediately launched into the details of what had happened while Seifer had been out.

"What do you think we should do?" Gippal asked after a pause.

Seifer sighed, toying idly with the ice pack. He lifted his head suddenly, eyes narrowing in thought.

"What if we try to work something out with Strife? Shouldn't that help matters some?" Seifer asked, looking to Gippal to help.

Gippal's face had evident distaste on it, but he gave Seifer a grudging sigh. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt any. They _would_ help some with the war with Devil's and everything. What made you think of that?" Gippal asked suddenly, peering intently at Seifer's face.

The other man shrugged, brows furrowing. "I dunno. Sorta just came to me. So, how do we do this with Strife? And what about Gijitsu? Cid is one hell of a killer to be that old. I wouldn't doubt if he'd come after us, too," Seifer added, sighing heavily as he hefted the ice pack from one hand to the other.

"I dunno. Maybe we should just stick with Strife for the moment. I don't wanna push it, seeing how you did make the mercenary go after both of them," Gippal added, giving Seifer a meaningful look. Seifer nodded mutely, standing with some effort.

"All right, then. How 'bout the rest of the Alliance? They still holding together?" Seifer asked absently, his mind wandering from the treaty with Strife for a moment.

"Yeah, they more or less figured you were just goin' crazy, but now that you're back, it'll die down," Gippal added, standing as well. He followed Seifer to the door.

"It better," Seifer muttered, swinging the door open. He immediately spotted his secretary, Yuffie, bending over a keyboard, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. "Yo, woman!" he called, a grinforming on his face.

Gippal rolled his eyes. At least he knew the real Seifer was back.

* * *

He crept silently through the building, making sure to keep in the shadows as he felt along the wall to guide him. Squinting ever so slightly, he strained his neck forward. 

He could barely see the flicker of a light under the closed door, but it was enough. He knew that his target stayed late on Friday's, sometimes slept in the office, so it was not his presence that proved to be the problem.

Obtaining what he needed would cause some complications.

He crept forward a few more steps, mere feet from the door. Reaching a hand out, he noted with satisfaction that he was not trembling. He had done this many times before, and his experience had payed off.

As soon as his hand was ready to close around the door knob, it turned, and the door opened a few inches.

He had only seconds to react, but his brain snapped to attention, and with a flick of his shoulder his arm shot out once more, his fingers closing around the throat of his victim.

"What in the-"

Kuja shoved the man back viciously, enjoying the sickening crack his leg made as it twisted underneath him. Stomping forward, he pressed his knee into the man's stomach, pinned his arms down, and then leaned forward, exposing his face.

"Ansem."

"You! You son of a bitch!" Ansem spat, his face glowing with fury as he struggled against Kuja. "Get the fuck off of me, you scum!" Ansem bellowed, fighting even harder.

Kuja, however, kept his hold tight, pressing his knee even further into Ansem's stomach. "The Heartless," Kuja said, keeping his voice calm and low.

Ansem's struggles stopped, and his eyes narrowed, his arms slowly going limp against Kuja's grasp.

"The Heartless," Kuja repeated, making his meaning more clear with a sharp squeeze on Ansem's windpipe. "You will tell me of them," he said, squeezing even tighter. Ansem's face was turning a sickly shade of blue, but he did not relent.

"I'll tell you about the Heartless!" Ansem gasped, sputtering lightly when Kuja released his jugular momentarily.

"Your samples. You mentioned that you had abandoned them. Tell me, where are they?" Kuja asked, leaning down further with his knee.

"Samples?" Ansem asked, feigning ignorance. Kuja let out something close to a snarl, his face hardening.

"Fool! Don't toil with me! You mentioned that you had samples you abandoned. Now tell me where they are," he said, drawing in some of his temper. Ansem was shaking beneath him, his face flushed with fear, and the slight lack of oxygen.

"Fine!" he gasped, gritting his teeth. "Northern Continent. I left them there," he said, his voice cold and toneless. "I'm not sure if they remained intact when the Heartless attacked, but that's where I left them," he added grimly, staring up at Kuja.

"They are creatures of darkness, are they not?" Kuja asked, narrowing his eyes when Ansem nodded. "Then how do you defeat them?" he continued, raising an eyebrow.

Ansem hesitated for a moment, until Kuja applied pressure. "I don't know," Ansem finally admitted. "It is why I abandoned my search. They became too powerful to control," he added quickly, seeing the angry look on Kuja's face.

"You have proved yourself useful, Ansem," Kuja said, slipping his knee off of the man's gut and standing swiftly. Ansem scrambled back toward his desk, using it as leverage to drag himself to his feet.

"What are you going to do now?" Ansem asked, eyes narrowing as he studied Kuja from across the office.

"You did not lie, so I will let you live," Kuja said lightly, watching with amusement as relief washed over his face. The amusement turned into a sinister smile as he withdrew a small dagger, the same used to kill Ultimecia, from his shirt.

Moving forward in one quick, fluid motion, he plunged the dagger into Ansem's chest, watching the golden eyes go wide with shock and disbelief.

"You said I could live," Ansem burbled, a trickle of blood making it's way slowly down his chin.

Kuja twisted the blade painfully, ignoring the crimson liquid that spilled over onto his fingers. "I lied," he said simply, wrenching the dagger from Ansem's gut. He dropped to the floor in an uncerimonious heap, landing slightly on Kuja's shoes.

Wiping his hand on Ansem's shirt, he slid the blade back into it's place, turning quietly and exiting the room.

Ansem burbled one last time before his head slumped to the floor.

* * *

Maleficent's stride was quick and hurried as she passed along curious employees gathered about Ansem's door. She had heard rumors spreading from the bottom floor upon her arrival, but she simply needed to witness this for herself.

A grim smile formed on her lips as she stopped at the open door to his office.

Ansem's body was slumped over in a half seated position, his head resting face-first uncomfortably on the floor. His fists were clenched tightly, and Maleficent could tell his attacker had gone after his throat, due to the discolored bruising along his neck.

Blinking a few times as the stench of blood and rotting flesh filled her nostrils, she moved forward, shoving a few bold secretaries out of the way with a menacing glower.

She shoved him lightly with her staff. His body slumped sideways, and Maleficent was given a full view of his blood-soaked front, the hole of a blade clearly evident.

It seemed Kuja had struck again.

* * *

I've come to the conclusion that I like killing people. A lot. Except for Cloud. I'm a Cloud Groupie(and proud)so I would never kill him. Maybe. If I did, it would be a nice, peaceful, shot to the head. Aren't I so kind?


End file.
